


Be Free

by Lady_Akuma_Wolf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cutting, Depression, Episode: s08e06 Southern Comfort, Hurt!Sam, M/M, Overdose, Self-Harm, Suicidal Sam, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Trigger Warnings!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 02:47:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 47,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4590144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Akuma_Wolf/pseuds/Lady_Akuma_Wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU from end of Southern Comfort. Sam takes Dean's words to heart, his mind throwing in its own two cents. Believing it is what will make Dean happy, Sam runs and becomes untraceable until it is almost too late. Dean calls in any help he can to find his brother, including angelic assistance. But finding someone with the knowledge Sam has, and who doesn't want to be found, the remaining members of Team Free Will better pull out all the stops, and fast. Sastiel. TRIGGER WARNING: self-harm, cutting, suicide. warnings in each chapter</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I know this has been done multiple times, but I still wanted to take a crack at it, since as soon as I saw the Episode for Southern Comfort, especially the ending, my first thought was, ‘OMG I have to write a fanfic!’. So, here it is.  
> STORY TRIGGER WARNINGS: depression, self-harm, suicidal thoughts and quite possibly attempt(s). Each chapter will have warnings for what is in the chapter, if anything.  
> Previously posted on FF.net by me. Being revamped and posted on here

Be Free  
Chapter One

Dean was outside, saying his farewells to Garth. Sam sighed shakily, eyes flickering from the closed door to his half-packed duffel. He wanted to get done with his own stuff and get the weapons packed before Dean came back in. As he headed out the door, Garth gave him a look, an apology, and a promise to keep the elder Winchester outside for as long as possible, so as to give Sam some time alone to compose himself or whatever. Absently folding a semi-clean shirt, Sam doubted there was enough time in the world to compose himself for his brother’s return to the broken room… back to his useless brother.

_You should’ve looked for me when I was in Purgatory!_

Sam winced, forehead wrinkling in spite of himself. Dean was right, in a way. He had started to look, but their promise to each other, to move on, to not look for each other, and most of all, to not bring the other back from the dead had changed Sam’s mind, at least partially. At the same time, he had thought – hoped – that Dean and Castiel had both made it into Heaven. Why would he have wanted to yank his brother out of there and back to Earth? Why force him back into this life, back to fighting, hunting, exorcising, getting hurt, having to look out for his demon-blooded little brother? No. He was better off in Heaven.

_Left me to rot in Purgatory!_

He should have made sure. Should have found a way, been positive Dean was safely in Heaven. Not Hell, not Purgatory, not trapped somewhere else. But in Heaven, sipping a beer, driving the Impala down memory lane. That he was happy, free. Free like he never could’ve been during his life on Earth. But no. He, Sam, the loving, messed up younger brother, had given up. In more ways than one. What kind of loving brother did that? Maybe he didn’t deserve to be called that, especially now… or maybe he never had in the first place. A loving brother was always there, never backing down, never giving up.

_Cas let me down, you let me down, the only person that hasn’t let me down is Benny._

Come to think of it, he’d been letting Dean down since he’d been driving them and dad to the hospital. Everything had just snowballed from there.

_Let’s go through some of Sammy’s greatest hits._

He didn’t even need to remember Dean’s growled out accusations. He had a list all of his own on his head.

His own death.

Dean making a deal to bring him back, and going to hell.

Demon Blood.

Ruby.

Being Soulless.

Freeing Lucifer.

The Cage.

Not looking for Dean.

The list went on and on, big points and little, shouted out, snarled hatefully, spitefully, in his brother’s voice. Always a disappointment.

A failure.

A liar.

Weak.

Useless.

Worthless.

Monster.

_Everything you’ve ever done since you climbed into my ride has been to deceive me._

He had, in a way. He’d kept secrets, omitted things, lied. To his brother! Dean was right to distrust him, to hate him. God, all he’d ever done was lie, and then expect it to be alright when the truth came out! Time and time again, he betrayed his brother.

_I might’ve lied, but I never, once, betrayed you. I never once left you to die!_

_Benny’s been more of a brother to me this past year than you’ve ever been!_

Sam’s knees gave out, causing him to half sit, half fall onto the bed, eyes squeezed shut as his brother’s voice continued to scream at him inside his head. Thin lines of blood trickled down his arm from where his nails were digging into his arm in an attempt to ground himself.

“No! No,” he whispered. “I can fix this… I can fix this.”

_Those aren’t mistakes, Sam, those are choices!_

Sam’s eyes flickered from his half packed bag of clothing, to his backpack, to his weapons. There was one last way to fix this, one last choice. And Sam made the choice. No more being a burden. No more lies, anger, and failure.

Just freedom.

OoOoO

Garth waved half heartedly to Dean as he pulled out of the small motel parking lot, worry still creasing his forehead as he left the Winchester brothers. He hoped he was doing the right thing, leaving them alone with each other. Dean was now free of the coin’s influence, but the coin had only brought out feelings and thoughts which were already there, just below the surface. Sam had said he was fine, but the gangly hunter didn’t really believe him. All he could do now was hope the younger brother would manage alright. And if not… he flexed his sore hand experimentally. He would just have to punch Dean again.

OoOoO

Dean sighed heavily as he slowly turned back to the motel room door, hand resting on the knob. Hopefully his brother was ready to go before the destruction of the room was noticed by a staff member. They didn’t have the money to pay for it, and explaining to the police was nowhere near the top of his to-do list.

The bathroom door was closed and the sink running at full force when he finally went inside, locking the door behind him. He scowled at Sam’s bed, where a good portion of his brother’s clothes and weapons were scattered haphazardly. “C’mon, Sam! Let’s get rolling! Places to go, people to see, monsters to kill!”

Ignoring the lack of response, Dean started grabbing his few shirts, a pair of pants and his weapons, shoving them with no ceremony into his bag. He could sort it out later. Right now he just wanted to get out of here, and away from the memories this room held; the broken furniture, shattered glass, and blood on the floor from where he’d thrown his brother. He was not looking forward to being stuck in the car with Sam by any means after what had happened. Rage still rolled through his veins from the emotions the coin had conjured, but it was slowly being tempered by guilt and shame.

The silence stretched into minutes as Dean zipped up his bag and Sam still had yet to emerge from the bathroom. And the water was still running. Frowning, Dean stormed over to the closed door and pounded on the faux wood. “Enough primping, Sam! Stop wasting time!”

Once again, silence beyond that of the water greeted him. Dean’s frown graduated into a scowl as he tried the handle; finding it unlocked he yanked the door open wide. “Sam, what the hell are you…” his snarl trailed off into silence as he realized the bathroom was completely empty, not even a toothbrush or shaving razor remained.

Movement behind the door made him whip around, gun yanked from his waistband without a second thought. The curtains over the bathtub danced in the breeze as it puffed its way into the bathroom, bringing smells from the diner across the street.

“What the hell…” Dean looked out but nothing was disturbed outside, and the window hadn’t been forced or knocked off its tracks. Scowl still in place, he turned around to search the room again.

Sharp eyes swept carefully over the room, he finally noticed Sam’s backpack was no longer open on the table next to the closed laptop but was missing completely – though the laptop was still sitting there. Also missing from the mess on his brother’s bed were some of Sam’s more ambiguous clothing, the demon knife, two guns and another, smaller silver knife.

“Son of a bitch. Sam I don’t have time for this!” he shouted, yanking his phone from his pocket and punching the speed dial to Sam’s phone. Ringing from his end was answered by a buzzing on the table next to his brother’s laptop.

Phone still in his hand, Dean slowly walked over. Sam’s phone jittered across the tabletop next to the pocketknife Dean had given him for his 13th birthday, set on top of a piece of paper. Snapping his phone shut and pocketing it, Dean hesitantly pulled the folded paper out from under the knife and opened it.

Two lone words glared accusingly up at him in Sam’s handwriting. It took several attempts to read and reread before their meaning sank in.

**_Be Free._ **

“Sammy!”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Brief mention of self harm

Be Free  
Chapter Two

Previously in Be Free….

“Son of a bitch. Sam I don’t have time for this!” he shouted, yanking his phone from his pocket and punching the speed dial to Sam’s phone. Ringing from his end was answered by a buzzing on the table next to his brother’s laptop.

Phone still in his hand, Dean slowly walked over. Sam’s phone jittered across the tabletop next to the pocketknife Dean had given him for his 13th birthday, set on top of a piece of paper. Snapping his phone shut and pocketing it, Dean hesitantly pulled the folded paper out from under the knife and opened it.

Two lone words glared accusingly up at him in Sam’s handwriting. It took several attempts to read and reread before their meaning sank in.

Be Free.

“Sammy!”

OoOoO

Be Free  
Chapter Two

Garth didn’t make it ten miles out of town before his phone buzzed across the empty passenger seat, dancing among candy wrappers, its screen alight with Dean’s name.

“Dean, my man! Miss me already?”

“Sam’s gone!” the voice on the other line with deep and grating with rage. “He left his phone, his laptop, took some of his clothes, couple weapons and left out the damn freaking bathroom window while I was outside saying so long to your dumb ass.”

Garth paused before replying. Honestly he wasn’t too surprised that Sam had left, but he figured the younger Winchester would’ve at least said goodbye to his brother, not vanished into thin air. “Are you sure he went voluntarily?”

Dean paced the hotel room, avoiding the broken furniture. “No sign of a struggle or forced entry or sulfur, and like I said, some of his stuff is missing. I doubt a kidnapper would be kind enough to wait while Sam packed up some stuff to take with.”

“What about angels?”

Dean growled. “Cas is gone. No others would give a crap about me, let alone Sam. To him, he’s just the boy with demon blood and Lucifer’s meat suit. No, he freaking ran away.”

Garth pulled over into an abandoned strip club’s parking lot, absently thinking that if the joint had still been open, Dean would’ve happily spent several hours in the place. “Do you want me to turn around and come back?”

He could almost see the other hunter throwing up his hands as he replied, “Well no shit, that’s why I called you. Pain in the ass little brother thinks he can just go run off and avoid his issues, and now I gotta find him and drag his ass back here, again. I’m so gonna beat his ass when I find him!”

“Why?”

“Because I’m sick of his bullshit, Garth! Always causing problems or running away from them, never facing and dealing with them! He –”

“No, no,” interrupted Garth. “Why are you going to go look for him? This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Now you can go find that Benny friend of yours and not have to deal with Sam’s… issues.”

It seemed he’d managed to make Dean momentarily speechless. Finally, on the other end of the line, the hunter growled, “Just get back here so we can find him.” Without waiting for an answer, he hung up.

“Well then,” Garth muttered, staring at his phone for a moment before tossing it back over onto the chair and pulling out of the parking lot, heading back for the motel and one very pissed off hunter. “Let’s go find us a Sammy.”

OoOoO

When he pulled up next to the Impala, Garth jumped out and went to check outside the windows to the brother’s room, hoping to maybe find something Dean had missed.

“I already checked, Garth. Twice. There’s nothing.” A voice behind him commented angrily.

“Did you try calling him?” Garth asked as he stood up.

Dean scowled at him. “First thing I did, I’m not as stupid as I look. No, he left it behind, along with his laptop. And all of his other ones are still in the glove compartment.”

Stalking back to the room with Garth trailing behind him, Dean raked his fingers through his hair. “I just… why the hell did he leave?! Running never solves anything… how is that being free?”

Garth gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Now you’ve lost me. What do you mean, being free? Is that code, or something?”

Dean dug a piece of paper out of his pocket and roughly handed it to the other hunter. “He left me this. And yes, it’s his handwriting. He also left the pocket knife I gave him when we were just kids.”

Carefully, Garth read and reread the two words on the paper. Slowly, he looked back up at Dean, staring up at him. “Again I will ask you, Dean, isn’t this what you wanted? You said as much earlier.”

“That wasn’t me!” Dean snarled, his face red with anger. “That was the coin, and you know it!”

Garth held up his hands, trying to calm his friend down. “The coin only speaks the truth, remember? It was you, deep down. Maybe you didn’t realize it, but it was. You’re tired of being held back, of taking care of Sam, of dealing with him. Let him go, Dean. Deep down, that’s what you want. And he gave it to you. I’ll at least track him down and make sure he’s ok. But you… you go live your life, find Benny, hunt, don’t hunt, whatever. You’re free, so you can –”

Dean shoved him into a wall, forearm against his throat, effectively ending what he’d been saying. “That is my little brother you’re talking about!” he growled. “He can’t handle being on his own! He’ll end up dead, or worse, because I’m not there to keep his ass out of trouble. It’s my job. Ever since I was four, it has been my job!” He glared fiercely at Garth for a long moment, before stepping away, facing to opposite wall, running his hands through his hair.

Massaging his throat, Garth watched as Dean went back to pacing. After a few tense minutes to be sure he wasn’t going to be attacked again, Garth said slowly, “He’s an adult, Dean. As you said, his choices got him into trouble. Let him get himself out of trouble. You said you were tired of it, tired of Sam; here’s your out.”

Dean spun on his heel, causing Garth to flinch against the wall, but a repeat of the attack didn’t come. Instead, Dean’s eyes almost glowed with fury as the stared down the shaggy hunter. Next thing he knew, his face was dripping with water and Dean was recorking vial of holy water. “Seriously, Dean?!”

“Yeah, well, can you blame me? You’re not exactly sounding like the Garth I know, telling me to abandon my brother.” Dean spat.

Garth shrugged. “You wanted to get away from Sam. Sam’s gone. Just trying to get you to choose. Be happy and free, or be with your brother, and feel tied down to him.” He watched the battle in his friend’s eyes, and gave the enraged hunter a small smile. “The choice is up to you.”

With those words, Dean sank onto the nearest bed, fight draining out of him as if his throat had been cut. “I don’t know what to choose, Garth,” he whispered. “His my brother, I love him, but… his choices. How can I trust him?”

“Maybe you can’t.”

Dean buried his face in his hands, sighing deeply. “I don’t know what to do,” he repeated.

Garth walked over cautiously and placed a hand on his shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s move across town, find a room, and you can sleep on it. Watch for car thefts, check for card charges, figure out what his plans are, that sort of thing. We can start in the morning. He can’t get too far before then.”

With another deep sigh, Dean wordlessly stood up, grabbed his bag, and left.

OoOoO

Sam walked to the edge of town before stopping at a small Pump and Fill gas and diesel station, sliding his fake credit card in the ATM and pulling out as much as he dared before visiting the men’s room and tucking all but his ID into the garbage bin.

Back in the store he stocked up on water, PowerAde and a few packs of food. The clerk didn’t even look up at him and appeared half stoned as he bopped his head to the music blaring in his ears. Good. If – and it was a very big if – Dean came looking for him, he wouldn’t remember him.

Across the street a few trees provided shade at a rest stop. Deciding to wait out some of the heat for a few hours before moving on, he tucked himself on the far side of two that had grown twisted around each other, giving him more than enough room to hide behind. After it cooled down – and Dean would hopefully be too drunk to look for him – he could cross back through town and head north. Why he thought heading that direction was a good idea he didn’t know. But it was a plan, and he decided to go for it. He could always change it. And hitchhiking wouldn’t leave a trail like a stolen car would.

Hidden behind the trees, Sam finally allowed the pain he had been holding at bay to roar painfully through his chest, down his legs and arms, into his head. With a sob he wrapped his arms around himself, fingers clutching at his arm, digging into the cut he’d made there yesterday morning, the other hand going up to the amulet which hung on a long cord under his shirt. He had saved it from the waste can where his brother had tossed it when, once again, he’d let his big brother down. He almost hadn’t. But now… it was all he had left.

His hand twitched, wanting to reach for a blade, to try and bleed out the pain in his chest, but a small part of him remembered where he was, and couldn’t risk getting caught.

Later, he promised himself. He could bleed away the pain later.

OoOoO

Dean, seated across the small table from him, was scowling at the laptop, typing furiously. Garth watched him silently for a moment. The older Winchester had been at it for going on five hours now, and so far had come up with nothing. The crease between his eyes had gotten deeper and deeper as time wore on and search after search came up empty. No cars had been reported as stolen in this town or any nearby, so he had moved on to searching Sam’s aliases.

“Dean,” Garth began hesitantly, “what if Sam dumped all his IDs, or had one you don’t know about?”

Dean glared at him about Sam’s computer before returning to his search. “I will find him.” He growled out after a moment. “Whether he wants me to or not.”

Garth shook his head. He didn’t understand Dean – or Sam for that matter. He could see the rift between the hunter brothers, though he didn’t completely understand the reasons why, and knew if he asked each of them the story would be different.

Dean wanted his freedom from his younger brother for reasons that probably had a large part to do with the reasons they were no longer in sync with each other, and now that he had it, he rejected it. Rejected it to the point he didn’t just decide to wait for Sam to come back, or call, but was actively looking for him. Garth wasn’t sure if he really cared his about what happened to his brother at this point, or if he just didn’t trust him. Sadly, it was probably both.

A ding rather than a beep from the computer broke Garth’s train of thought. Dean was grinning. “Got a hit. ATM at a Pump and Fill on the south side of town.”

Garth got to his feet. “Well let’s go!”

OoOoO

Four hours earlier…

Sam watched semis pulling in and out of the Pump and Fill from a picnic bench across the street. He still hadn’t decided where he wanted to head besides north, though he supposed it didn’t really matter, as long as it was away from here. Away from Dean.

_“Let me to rot in Purgatory!”_

He winced at the voice. He ground his teeth together angrily, clenching his hand around a bruise forming on his bicep, an echo from the earlier fight with Dean. He couldn’t afford to do anything else, not now. He needed to leave, and soon. A red Freightliner pulled up at the diesel pump island, parking next to a white Mac and black Kenworth. The former two were driven by what he thought of as the typical trucker: middle-aged men in need of a shower and their clothes the same way. The Freightliner, however, was driven by a woman.

Shoving himself off his seat before he could change his mind, Sam shouldered his backpack and jogged across the street. The woman trucker was already out of her vehicle and fueling it up. Colorful tattoos decorated her arms, and her hair glowed like a copper penny. “Hey hon, mind grabbing me a couple Five Hour Energy shots while you’re in there?”

“Ok. Any snacks?” A blonde head appeared around the driver seat from the cab of the semi, her long hair in a braid which fell over her shoulder. “Boo, watch it!” she scolded, grabbing a black cat who had decided to peer out the mostly open window. She gently tossed the cat into the depths of the cab and rolled up the windows before heading inside.

She was also inked; the cat, and the marks on the blond woman’s arms brought Sam up short. Her tattoos were a mixture of several different Witch Paths, and there had been a Pentacle hanging from the cat’s collar. Now that he looked closer, he could see a few on the redhead as well.

“Great, just great,” Sam muttered, dropping his backpack onto the bench on the edge of the island. He plopped next to his bag with a sigh, burying his face in his hands. Just his luck. He had never heard of witches being truckers, but then again, what better way for them to do what most witches did best and not get caught?

“Hey, are you ok?”

Sam looked up; it was the blond witch. He gulped. “Yeah, I’m fine, thanks.” He gave her what he hoped was a believable smile.

She cocked her head at him, and Sam found himself wishing he had a weapon more handy than the small of his back. “You do realize I know you’re lying, right?”

Sam fidgeted, making it seem innocent as he shifted so his hand was on the butt of his gun. He eyed her carefully, noting her empty pockets and single necklace, though her woven bracelets with hanging charms of metals, wood and what looked possibly like bone could be an issue. “What makes you say I’m lying?”

She put her hands in her pockets. “Because I can feel how much pain you’re in, how lost and betrayed you feel. You’re about as far away from ok as a person can get.”

“Have you been spying on me?” Sam demanded.

“No.” she shook her head. “I can sense it.”

Sense it? Sam frowned. A witch werewolf? He was pretty sure the gun he was slowly inching for was loaded with silver, but…

Why couldn’t he move?

Someone tutted behind him. “My wife is trying to be nice to you, and you think it’s a good idea to shoot her?” The redhead. She stepped around from behind him, eyes glinting.

“Nice?!” said Sam incredulously. “You’re… you’re witches, or weres, or both! What do you want with me?”

“To help.” The blond said softly. “We know you’re a hunter, and I have a good idea who you are. You’re hurting, and bad –”

“Like hell you want to help,” growled Sam. “Pagan symbols, a familiar, powers? If you know I’m hunter, you know I know better when dealing with witches.”

The redhead laughed; the blond smiled. “Witches, really? Did you take a good look at our ink, Sam?”

Still unable to move thanks to one of them – he suspected the redhead – his eyes flitted back to their arms. It was then, mixed in with the pentacles, runes, triple moons, and other symbols, there was an anti-possession symbol that mirrored his own on both of them. There was Enochian symbols for veiling and invisibility among others. Both of them were wearing silver.

“Tell me, Sam,” the blond continued. “When you were having visions a couple of years ago, did that make you a witch? Given, it was because of demon blood, but still. Have you never run into psychics, or empaths? Or people with telepathy or telekinesis? Were they all bad?”

Sam opened his mouth to spit out a denial, but then a kind face framed by dark hair and mischievous eyes appeared in his head. Pamela, Bobby’s friend. Dead now, thanks to him and his brother, and blinded before that. Given, that had been Castiel, not them… but fault could still be traced back to them.

So, instead of the denial he had been about to utter, Sam instead sighed. “So you’re empaths and telepaths, telekinetic?”

"I’m Alexandria, a telekinetic,” the redhead informed him. “My wife, Sierra, is an empath. Now, are you still gonna still try and shoot us, or can we get a move on? We have a load due tomorrow morning up at two plants in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Not gonna let you ride with us if I need to worry about our safety.”

He looked from one woman to the other, meeting their gazes. The voice of his father shouted at him to not trust witches, so was Dean. But his gut decided it was worth the risk, and the risk felt minimal.

Alexandria didn’t release him until Sierra nodded, reading his honesty, he suspected. Then her words sank in. “Wait, did I hear right? You’re going to Sioux Falls?”


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just about all the trucking references, including the set up and type of the truck, are from when my wife and I were over the road truckers (well she drove, I navigated), even the cats and their names. Molly has since passed, but Boo is alive and kicking (and currently squinting suspiciously at me from her throne, aka cat tree).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: minimal. References to self harm
> 
> Sorry about the end conversation between Dean, Garth and the woman. Not happy with it, but it works.

Dean scowled at the filthy young man behind the counter. He vaguely remembered a tall man hours ago, but had no clue where he went. “Well do you think my… partner here and I could take a look at your security feed?” He whipped out the FBI badge he’d snagged from the depths of Baby before leaving the motel.

“You’re… a cop?” the man slurred. “Don’ look like one.”

“Did the man we’re looking for look like someone wanted in a national man-hunt?” Dean demanded.

The cashier shook his head. “No…”

“Then don’t judge based on appearances.”

OoOoO

The security footage was black and white, and grainy, but enough. Dean squinted at the screen as he watched his brother enter the store over five hours ago before exiting nearly ten minutes later and crossing the street, disappearing off the property. He slammed his fist into the table. “Damn it!”

Garth elbowed him to get him to move, pointing up at another screen; the one which faced the diesel fuel island. “Maybe he hitched a ride with a trucker.” He tapped a few keys, and the feed sped up. Not even a half hour later, a tall figure that couldn’t be anyone but Sam showed up on the edge of the screen again. “There!”

“Yeah I can see that,” Dean muttered, watching the exchange between two nice looking women who had emerged from a truck (good looking women truckers?! Would wonders never cease). He squinted, frowning. “Their ink… I can’t make any of it out. But that –” he pointed “could almost be an anti-posession tat. What are these chicks, demon hunting truckers?”

“Could be,” Garth said. “Travelling all over with a reason, especially smaller towns. And think of all the weapons you could store in the trailer and truck.”

“Wait, is he trying to go for his gun?”

Sam’s body was slightly bent, hand slipping towards the small of his back, then he froze. Another figure showed up from behind. Tension lined the younger Winchester brother’s body for several long moments before he relaxed an nodded before getting up and followed the blonde woman to the passenger side of the semi and climbed in after her, setting his bag at his feet and slamming the door shut behind him while the other women finished fueling. A moment later she climbed into the cab and started the truck, pulling out and away.

They were headed south.

Dean and Garth went back out to the station after Dean snapped photos as clearly as possible of both women, the former grabbing a state map and opening it on a table in the small food service area. “So, here’s us. And they headed south.” He pointed on a map. “Most semi drivers take the interstates, goes faster. The closest one is 44, which also mostly avoids Oklahoma City and that clusterfudge of traffic.” He scowled down at the map. “Where are they going that would get Sam to go with them…” he voice trailed off.

“Do either of you have any contacts or friends down south, say, in Oklahoma, Arkansas or Texas?” Garth asked, folding his arms, the fringe swinging.

Dean shook his head. “Not real…” He stopped. “That son of a bitch.” He jabbed his finger at the map, at the western border of Texas. “That girl he left me in Purgatory for. She lives in Kermit, Texas.”

Garth looked skeptical. “Do you really think he’d go somewhere so obvious? Maybe he asked them to go that way, or they’re headed somewhere else.”

“It’s Sam, isn’t it?” Dean said it like it explained everything. “Even if they only take him part of the way, he’d still be closer. Then he can steal a car or hitch a ride further down the line.” He folded the map back up in approximately the same order it had been originally. “I’m going after him. I’ll be able to go faster than a semi can, and bypass the scales and such. You coming or not?”

Garth shrugged. “Why not. I’m still not convinced, by the way.”

OoOoO

Sam wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting when he climbed up into the truck cab after Sierra, but what was there wasn’t what he’d been expecting. A closed laptop was in a metal rack attached to the driver’s seat. A microwave was bungee-corded to the plastic cabinet frame behind the driver’s seat, and inside the frame was a mini fridge. Above those was another cabinet with wide mesh holding in hanging clothes. A glance around the rest of the back showed a folded up upper bunk, and a neatly made lower bunk. Behind the passenger seat was…

“A tv?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at Sierra as she settled on the lower bunk next to the black cat he had seen earlier, and an older calico with bright green eyes with a jagged ring of gold, who scowled at him from the blonde’s lap as if he didn’t meet her standards of what should and should not be allowed within her small kingdom.

Sierra laughed. “Yes. And an xbox,” She motioned inside the upper cabinet the tv was attached to. “When you’re sitting waiting to get loaded for half a day, or waiting to find a decent load, playing games or watching tv helps Alex pass the time.”

“What do you do?”

She held up a small, flat screen device. “Read. She bought me this right before we got on the road over a year ago. I don’t know what I’d do without it. We can be going down the road, and as long as her wireless thingie has signal from her phone, I can shop and buy all the books I want… within reason.” She laughed when she caught him eyeing the red and black pentagram on a sheer cloth hanging on the back wall. “I can take it down if it’s making you uncomfortable. It’s not part of the wardings.”

Sam shook his head. “No, its ok. Just… curious. What do you guys do if you’re ever inspected?”

“Dunno, never been inspected, not beyond log books, anyway.” Sierra scratched the calico’s ears, getting the cat to finally stop staring at Sam. “We like to avoid the southern border, where stuff like that and worse are far more common.”

Sam wasn’t sure he wanted to know what she meant by worse or not. “Worse?”

The laughter faded from her pale eyes. “It’s the south. To lesbian truck drivers who are witches? We’d be lucky to just be raped and murdered if we ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. Almost got attacked at a San Antonio truck stop.” She held up her hand. “Don’t apologize. We got out of there, and avoid going back. Don’t like the heat anyways. One time we were waiting to get loaded, and they wouldn’t let us drop the trailer OR run the truck so we could have AC! Poor cats almost overheated.”

The black cat shook her head and got down off the bed and jumped in the window, sprawling out on a thin blanket there placed, Sam guessed, for just such a reason.

The driver’s door opened, and Alexandria climbed up. “We all ready to go?” She motioned to his bag. “There’s room in the fridge if you want your drinks kept cold. We’re not going to poison them.”

As she revved up the engine, Sam handed Sierra two of the three drinks, keeping the red one. Watching as they pulled out, he frowned as the redhead eased the truck and trailer out away from the fuel island. “I thought you were headed for Sioux Falls?”

“We are. Got to pick up our load first. I’ve been there before. They’ll have us loaded and headed north within the hour.” She glanced over at him. “Why, want to get out? Now’s your chance.” She slowed down.

Sam shook his head. He’d wait. He wasn’t sure if Jody Mills would help him hide from his brother, but it was worth a shot. Anything was, until he figured out what he plan was.

OoOoO

Alexandria, after backing up to a loading down and getting the paperwork all settled climbed in the back for a short nap. Sierra took her seat, bringing with her a deck of cards and cribbage. “Know how to play?” she asked as the truck and trailer rocked as they were starting to get loaded.

He remembered, barely. Pool and poker were much more common in his life. He was scowling at his hand, trying to figure out when would be the better bet since it was Sierra’s crib and she was almost forty points ahead of him – 5, 5, 6, 7, King, King – when the calico cat jumped into his lap, curled up, and scowled at him, daring him to make her move.

“I can move her, if you want.” Sierra offered, though she looked like she was trying to not laugh. “Molly is very choosy. If she likes you, then good luck getting her to leave you alone. We’ve been through a lot, her and I. Helped me through some very bad nights.”

Sam discarded the two kings, and was rewarded with another five being cut. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. “Due to your power?”

She shook her head as she played a nine, to be followed by Sam’s six and collection of points. “Not really. More what most would call teen angst. I was figuring out who I was, my orientation… living in northern Wisconsin in a Christian household and with Christian friends. My parents were fairly open minded, but I was reading and hearing about other kids my age coming out and getting kicked out. I was so scared, and that fear got turned inwards for over eight years.”

“Was that fear justified?” Sam asked as he counted his points.

“Not really. I didn’t come out until college, and by then, I had made friends who didn’t dump me because I didn’t match up to what their religion said was ok and not ok. It hurt, to lose them for something I couldn’t control or change. But the ones who mattered stayed, even through the rough patches. Even called the cops on me once, they were so worried.” She laughed humorlessly. “My mom was too upset over my dad’s death to really notice what was going on, so she just called me a drama queen and went back upstairs. Sent me into a three-day panic attack, that welfare check.”

He’d narrowed her leave down to twelve points, but she was over the skunk line, and he was still behind it. He could hear the similarities in her story. But he had chosen to use his powers, no matter they were something he couldn’t cast off, just as she couldn’t cast off her orientation. “Does your mom know?”

“About the lesbian part, or magic part? Lesbian, yes. Magic, goodness no. She wouldn’t believe me, and I don’t want to drag her into it.” She glanced outside. “Green light, we’re good to go.”

They were able to finish their game while Alexandria locked and sealed the doors. He lost, but didn’t get skunked. It was hard to focus on the last hand of cards. Sierra noticed his head dropping and half-mast eyes. “The top bunk is all yours. Go rest. And strap yourself in. That way if Alex has to hit the brakes you don’t go flying into Molly’s secret hideout.” She motioned to the shelf above the windshield against the sloped upper front of the cab. “She might change her mind about liking you.”

He wanted to protest, he did. But it had been too long since he’d well and truly rested, not with the tension between him and Dean. So he nodded as Sierra unlatched the upper bunk, completely with spare pillow and soft blankets.

He settled his pack by his feet and tucked his shoes underneath. He noticed the sky darkening as they set off, Alexandria and Sierra turning a Star Trek show on quietly on the laptop, and Molly the calico cat curled up against his side with a deep sigh, stretching her white front paws onto his chest.

The nightmares he was expecting never came. Instead he dreamed of chasing Molly through a two story old house, only to have Boo jump on him from the kitchen counter. Later, he would look back and find it weird he was the same size as them. Then… then it didn’t matter. He was accepted, and was having fun, something he hadn’t had in a long time.

OoOoO

Travel time to Kermit was thirteen hours; Dean and Garth, who had decided to ride along with the elder Winchester, made it in ten and a half. They parked at the only truck stop to wait and watch for the semi driven by the woman from the security video.

And waited. And waited.

After six hours of waiting, and watching, Garth cleared his throat. “Maybe they went elsewhere –”

“Shut it. He came this way, ok? Maybe he had to steal a car and so wouldn’t have to stop here. Let’s just go track down the girl.”

“O…kay…” Garth said slowly. “What do we know about her, besides your brother likes her and you hate her? Something useful to the hunt?”

Dean slammed his head into the headrest. “Sam said something about a dog, too. Must work at an animal clinic. Can’t be too many of those in a town this small, right?”

Turned out there were three. First two they visited, no one working there was named Amelia. At the third place, no one was at the front desk. “Be with you in a moment!” A female voice called from the back.

A minute later a dark haired woman in a white lab coat trotted up front. “Sorry, receptionist and tech both out with the flu. What can I help you gentlemen with?”

Dean held up a photo of Sam. “Have you seen this man around recently?”

She want pale. “No, can’t say that I have –”

“You’re lying.”

She frowned at him, straightening. “No, I’m not. You asked if I have seen him around, and I haven’t.”

Dean scowled. “Look lady I know you know Sam. He came in here with a dog he hit months ago, asked you to patch it up –” A bark from behind the counter interrupted him. “Who asked you?” he demanded.

“That is the dog in question. Why are you asking about Sam? Has something happened to him?”

“Why would you ask that?” Garth asked before Dean could speak.

Amelia gave the dog a reassuring pat on the head before she spoke. “He was…. Troubled. I could see that. He had scars on his arms. He had horrible nightmares. And was blaming himself for things well beyond his control. One night…” she stopped, and swallowed before continuing, her voice wavering slightly. “One night he got drunk, really drunk. And he told me if it hadn’t been for hitting Riot, and bringing him here… he was headed somewhere quiet, with a loaded gun on the seat beside him. He said he was going to make sure he didn’t hurt anyone else the way he had his brother, his family and his friends.”

“Did he say what had happened to his brother?” asked Garth quietly.

She shook her head. “Just that he was gone, and it was his fault. At first I thought he meant he was dead. But then I wasn’t so sure. And then one day he up and vanished, and I never heard from him since. I hope his brother reached out to him and they were able to patch things up and move on. He deserves some happiness.”

“I’m sure he had more than enough here, enough he didn’t need his precious brother!” Dean spat before he could contain himself.

Amelia scowled at him, then her face smoothed over, and her eyes went cold. “You.”

“What?” Demanded Dean, shrugging his shoulders.

She stepped around the counter, still staring at Dean until she was right in front of him. Then she slapped him.

“What the hell, lady?” shouted Dean.

“You fight with your brother, you leave, he searches and searches for you, is upset to the point of hurting himself, to suicide, and all you can say is ‘what’?!”

Garth stepped between the two of them hurriedly before either could make another move. “Whoa, whoa. Hang on. They did make up, at least, somewhat. They had a fight, and Sam left. We were a little ways north of here and thought maybe he’d come to you as someone he trusted.”

“Yeah, well, he didn’t. Even if he did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

Garth turned his gaze to Dean. “If he didn’t come here, at least not yet, where does that leave us?”

“He is either still on the road, hasn’t gotten here yet, or wasn’t coming here at all.” Dean sighed, sinking into a stiff waiting room chair. The dog trotted over and sniffed him warily. “Son of a bitch. Where the hell did he go…”


	4. Chapter 4

A loud hiss of air from the brakes woke Sam up a few hours later. Rolling over carefully to avoid both cats who had draped themselves on him, he peered up to the front of the cab. “Where are we?”

 Sierra climbed in the back. “Sioux City. Headlight went out. Shouldn’t take too long to fix.” She told him as she lifted the lower bunk up, digging out a sweatshirt. “So if you want to get out and use the bathroom, stretch your legs, that sort of thing, now’s the time to do it. It’s a Pilot Travel Center. They’re pretty clean. Just gotta hope and lechers are asleep in their trucks.”

 Sam was very sure he didn’t want to know more about that last statement. But to be safe, he tucked most of his weapons away while Sierra dug something out of her purse.

 Alexandria was already outside, lifting the gigantic hood of the truck up and perched on the tire well, muttering to herself about breakdowns always happening at the most inconvenient locations.

 Sam eased off of the bunk and grabbed shoes, slipping them on once he hit the floor. Sierra waited patiently while he stretched before nodding that he was ready.

 The fueling island and surrounding area was surprisingly busy for being almost midnight, Sam thought as they walked towards the building.

 “Hey baby, how much for an hour?” someone leered behind them. “I want you next!” he laughed.

 Sierra ignored him, slipping her hands into the front of her hoodie. Sam grit his teeth together but kept pace with her, mentally naming the weapons he had on him: gun at the small of his back, knife on his leg and in his belt buckle…

 “Hey bitch I’m talking to you!”

 The man grabbed Sierra’s arm and jerked her around to face him. Her foot swiftly connected with his balls, causing him to double over and release her. As one, Sam drew his gun as she whipped out and extended a two foot black metal baton; so that was what she had tucked into her pocket.

 “Back off,” Sam ordered, his voice shaking. “She’s not for sale.”

 “You want a whore, go downtown, Eddie,” an older man dressed in faded jeans and plaid shirt had come out of the diner. “You’ve been told to leave off the women truckers or the cops will pay you a visit.”

 Eddie sneered. “All women are wh-” he stopped when he heard the click of Sam’s gun being cocked; the younger Winchester lowered his aim to the man’s groin. With one last snarl at all of them, and a leer at Sierra, he spun on his heel and stalked off.

 “You alright there, Sierra? Where’s Red?” The older man asked.

 Sierra pointed to their truck. “Light went out. She’s fixing it. I need to go warn her about Eddie, though. Thanks for the backup, Harold.”

 Harold waved a dismissive hand. “I wish they’d just arrest him already, but his brother in law is the sheriff, so I doubt much will ever happen. Maybe I should’ve let your tall friend shoot him.”

 Now that Sam had a good look at the man, he knew him. “Harry?” he asked. “Harry VanHaverbek?”

 The man frowned. “Yeah, what’s it to… hell’s bells. Sam Winchester? Damn boy I haven’t seen you since the Yuuki’Ona hunt… God, what was it, ten years ago now? Heard about your father, sorry to hear about it.”

 Sam shrugged as he tucked his gun away. “Yeah well, it’s bound to happen to most of us in this life, one way or another, isn’t it?”

 “It’s why I retired.” Harold told them. “If something local kicks up its heels, I try to deal with it, or let other hunters know about it so they can take it out.” He cocked his head at the young man. “How’d you get mixed up with Red and Sierra?”

 “Needed a ride,” Sam said shortly.

 Harold nodded, eyes piercing. “I see. Well. You two go take care of your business inside. I’ll keep Red company until you get back out there.”

 He headed off without another word.

 Sierra was frowning. “Do we need to be worried about him telling your brother where you are?”

 “I don’t know,” Sam said with a sigh. “I don’t know.”

 OoOoO

 Dean emerged from the bathroom shower of the hotel down the road from the animal hospital. Amelia had reluctantly agreed to Garth’s request to come over and help them brainstorm Sam’s location. She was seated at the small round table with a notepad and pen, frowning, with the dog curled up at her feet; across from her, Garth was tapping out on Sam’s laptop.

 “Anything?”

 Garth shook his head. “No hits on his cards or IDs beyond the purchase and ATM withdrawl up in Kearney. He probably dumped the cards after that, if we’d checked the bins we might’ve found them.”

 Dean tossed the towel onto the bed. “And what good would that have done us, huh?” he scowled. “We know he got onto a truck with two chicks, headed south. So where the hell else would he have tried to go besides here?”

 “You don’t really have any way of knowing they were loaded when they headed south.”

 Both men turned to look at Amelia. “You think they only went south to get loaded? Then went in another direction?” Garth asked.

 She nodded. “Yes. Did you get a company name off the truck? Call them and ask where its next load is going.”

 Garth smacked himself on the forehead. “Duh, that’s brilliant!”

 “I wouldn’t go that far,” Dean muttered. “We weren’t able to make a copy of the video, anyway.”

 Garth was hurriedly typing away on his keyboard. “That’s ok, I think I remember the business name. Something along the lines of Black Cat Transport.”

 “Apt for a bunch of witches,” muttered Dean. “Don’t suppose the number is 666?”

 “Just because they’re women doing a man’s job and helping your brother doesn’t make them witches, asshole.” Amelia spat.

 “No, no!” Garth interjected before Dean could retort. “He means literally. They were all inked up with Pentagrams and stuff.”

 Amelia looked from him to Dean, clearly not buying it.

 “Ah hah! Got it!” Garth dug out his cell and punched the number in.

 “Hello, Black Cat Transport. How may I help you?” a friendly woman’s voice asked.

 “Hi. Umm… strange question. Did you have a red Freightliner in or near Kearney, Missouri today?”

 “Yes we did. Is there an issue?”

 Garth scratched his head, scrambling for a lie. “Umm, well…”

 OoOoO

 Sam and Sierra were just leaving the checkout, having bought a few breakfast sandwiches, which the blonde insisted on paying for when her phone went off.

 “Ugh, seriously?” She growled at her pocket, handing Sam her bag. “Alex always has a talent for this. Calls and wants me to pick something up for her, but doesn’t call until  _after_ I’ve checked… out.” She frowned.

 “Not her?” Sam guessed. “Who on Earth is calling you this late besides her?”

 “It’s our public business line. It gets called at all hours.”

 Putting on a fake smile that made Sam chuckle, she answered it. “Hello, Black Cat Transport. How may I help you?”

 The smile quickly slid off her face, though her voice remained painfully cheerful. “Yes we did. Is there an issue?”

 She motioned him over, leaning the phone away from her ear so he could listen in.

 “Umm, well…” An embarrassed chuckle. “They were making a repair on their truck, and I had asked to borrow a few tools from them. They left before I could return them. I’m looking for my next load now, and was hoping for their destination so I could meet up with them and return their tools.

 Sam went dead white. He recognized Garth’s voice, even distorted through phone lines. Sierra didn’t even look at him, but the pinched look her face took on told him she’d felt his distress. “I’m sorry, but I can’t give out destinations without authorization, or permission from the drivers themselves. I would be happy to pass on your name and number to them so they can talk to you direct-”

 The line went dead.

 Sam was white. Sierra patted his arm as she turned the cell off. “Even if they track the last call, they have no way of knowing it was one of us who you’re with that they just spoke to. I’ve turned it off and will switch it out for another, to be safe. It’s ok, Sam. Breathe.”

 He was trying as he followed Sierra back outside. Perhaps Garth was looking for him on his own, without Dean’s input. Dean had probably called and ranted to the other hunter about his running off, and Garth, still trying to fill Bobby’s shoes, was trying to do the responsible thing and keep track of him.

 After all, why would Dean be looking for him?

 OoOoO

 Harold nodded to the two of them as they came up to the truck. The light apparently fixed, Alexandria was leaning against the hood chatting with Harold.

 “I’m gonna go clean up then we’ll hit the road,” she told them, showing her grimy hands. “We’ll be taking 75 and 42 to avoid the scales. Our luck that’s when they’d want to inspect us, with a third passanger.”

 “If it’s a problem –”

 “No problem at all, Sam.” The redhead interrupted. “Scales are a hassle anyways. And it only adds another forty or so minutes of travel and we’re not due there until 8 am.” She walked off without another word, Harold keeping her company.

 Sam climbed back up into the sleeper, Sierra following him.

 “D’you think Alex told him anything about… where and why you guys picked me up?”

 She shook her head. “I doubt it. She’s very good at keeping secrets.”

 Sam sighed, something he’d been doing a lot of lately. “I hope so.”

 OoOoO

 “Why’d you hang up on them without getting any info?” Dean demanded when Garth snapped his phone shut mid-conversation.

 The other hunter scowled. “They were asking for my contact information so they could give it to the drivers and they could contact me. My cover story would immediately tip off Sam that we’re tracking him, and close.”

 “Yeah, but we could’ve tracked their location while you made the call, genius!”

 Garth winced. He hadn’t thought of that.

 “What difference does it make?” Amelia asked. “You are all obviously involved with something illegal, if you require this many IDs and burn phones. I’m sure Sam knows how to vanish. But if you’re this desperate to find him, who and where else would he turn to, if anyone when he needs help disappearing from the two of you?”

 Both men were silent for several moments. Then Dean grabbed his phone and dialed a number.

 “Hey, its Dean. Yes Dean Winchester. Long time no speak, Officer Mills.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: brief mention of suicide.
> 
> Any questions about the Trucking aspect, please let me know!

“Hey, it’s Dean. Yes, Dean Winchester. Long time no speak, Officer Mills.”

 Something glass or ceramic was slammed down onto a wooden surface. _“Dean?_ What the Hell? Would it _kill_ you or that brother of yours to check in with me once in a while and let me know you’re still alive and kicking?!”

 Dean sighed. “Yeah. Sorry about that. Speaking of Sam, don’t suppose you’ve heard from him or seen him recently?”

 Dean could almost feel the scowl Jody was sending his way. “Why?” she demanded.

 “Sammy got all offended at some something I said while under the influence and ran off to sulk. I’m just trying to find him before someone else does.”

 Thankfully, his back was to Garth and Amelia, and Dean missed the scrawny hunter stopping the vet from getting up and slapping him.

 “You know, I thought you could hold your alcohol better than that.” Jody’s tone made it clear she didn’t believe his story.

 “It… wasn’t that.” Said Dean slowly.

 “Then what the hell was it, Dean?” Jody demanded. When Dean remained silent, Jody said warningly, "You know, Dean, I’m this close to hanging up on you and good luck finding your brother.”

 Dean huffed and started pacing. “Jody… you know what we do, what we’re involved in. I’m sure you can use your imagination and take a pretty good guess.”

 Jody paused. “Dean, is there a reason you can’t talk? Are you in danger?”

 Having finally turned around and seen the look on Amelia’s face – rage, distrust and unease – he snorted. “In danger of being neutered, maybe. We found Sam’s ex-girlfriend the vet down in Texas. We were hoping he’d go to her, but he hasn’t. So you’re our next best guess, thus the reason for this phone call.”

 “Don’t tempt me,” Amelia threatened. “If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll even use a local.” Riot barked his agreement. Garth grinned despite the glare Dean was giving him.

 Jody chuckled. “Sounds like my kind of girl.”

 “Jody!”

 “Right. Back to the current disaster. So, what exactly did this argument entail? I know you boys have butted heads more times than I can count. This must’ve been a doozy.”

 “I…” he almost couldn’t get the words out. “I wasn’t… very nice, Jody. I pretty much said I didn’t want him with me anymore, that I didn’t feel he could be trusted.”

 “Well why didn’t you just tell him it wasn’t true and it was whatever made you say those things talking not you?”

 When Dean didn’t say anything, Jody cursed. “Dean, what _exactly_ was the influence? A curse, hex bag, demon?”

 “Think… think Honest Abe Lincoln meets Harry Potter.”

 Amelia frowned, now completely confused, turned to Garth for an explanation; he merely shrugged helplessly. If she wasn’t in their world, he saw no reason to pull her into it.

 “What the hell are you… Honest Abe? A Truth Curse?”

 “Pretty much, yeah.”

 Silence stretched out in Dean’s ear. “Jody?” he asked, “you still there?”

 When Jody finally answered, her voice was hard with anger. “Dean, if I was there, big bad ass hunter or not, I would be very tempted to take you over my knee.”

 “It’s not liked I  _asked_ for it, Jody!” Dean shouted. “I didn’t ask to be forced to spill the truth. I didn’t ask Sam to run off like an emo girl!”

 “I know that!” shouted Jody. “That’s not what I’m talking about! I’m talking about letting things between the two of you get as bad as they were, if all it took was a few pointed words from you to push Sam over the edge again! Men! I swear, it will not kill you to open up a little and be honest with each other before things go to hell!”

 “Sorry, I don’t do chick flick moments.”

 “Even when it might’ve kept this from happening?” Amelia said shortly.

 Dean turned to face Amelia. “What difference does it make? He left you, left me, just like he always does. You can’t count on him when it matters.”

  _Slap_!

 Dean blinked. Biting back the reaction to attack when struck – dang she was stronger than she looked! – and wiped away a line of blood from the corner of his mouth.

 “Did she just slap you?” Jody demanded. “Tell her thank you.”

 Garth stepped between the other hunter and Amelia. “Let’s all just breathe for a moment. We’re trying to work together, to find _Sam_ , not tear each other apart. Put Jody on speaker.”

 Frowning, Dean angrily smashed the speakerphone button. “You’re on speaker, Jody.”

 “Hello, boys and girls. Can we stop the sniping and get back to the problem at hand?”

 “If you want my opinion, we should just let him go,” Dean muttered. “He wants to be alone, let him be alone.”

 Amelia shook her head. “Sam doesn’t do good alone.” She held up her hand when Dean opened his mouth alone. “Look, I’m not sure who, or even what you are. Bounty hunters, special forces, private sector, whatever. All Sam would tell me was you hunt bad guys and try and save people. But sometimes, you need to be saved from yourself. That includes Sam, and it also includes you, Dean.”

 Silence, finally broken by Jody’s comment of, “Damn, she’s good.”

 Dean frowned down and the petite woman. “Wait, why the hell do _I_ need saving?”

 “You have a darkness in you, I can see it in your eyes. You’ve seen too much, done too much, been through too much, and it haunts you. It creeps up on you when you’re not looking, so you try and drown it in beer and liquor. My ex husband Don… he had the same look about him after he returned from Afghanistan. He still does, last I saw him. It’s not something you can easily shake off.”

 “Excuse me, but whatever he did and went through over there was nothing like me. You don’t understand, I’ve done things…” He shook his head and turned away. “Let’s just say, it was literally Hell.”

 “And you’re all alone in the world, with no one who cares about you, no one to talk to or turn to. You poor thing.” said Amelia scathingly. “Oh wait, you do have people who care! Your brother! And from the sounds of it Officer Jody and him” – she jerked her thumb at Garth – “You have people who love you, and are willing to help, if you would just let them the hell in! But no, you push and push them away, hide things away until they spill out at the wrong time for whatever reason, and when things get too hard you pull up stakes and leave.”

 “Sam left too, I’m not the only one running away from my problems!”

 “Sam accepted what you said as the truth.” said Amelia. “He thought it was what would make you happy! He’s always trying to make others happy! I have a feeling if he thought you’d be happier with him dead, he’d do it, because you matter so much to him!”

 Dean made a face in disbelief. “Sam might be emo, but he’s not suicidal.”

 “Are you so sure?” she frowned at him. “Remember what I told you earlier?”

 “Wait, wait, back up a moment,” Jody interrupted. “Is Sam in danger from himself?”

 Amelia filled Jody in on what she had told Dean and Garth, from when he showed up at her clinic, a bleeding dog in his arms, to his scars, to the night he got drunk enough to tell her where he’d been heading when he hit Riot.

 Jody sighed heavily over the phone. “Son of a bitch. I need more coffee…”

 “Isn’t it rather late for coffee?”

 “I have the early shift.” Coffee being poured crackled over the cheap phone’s speaker. “Dean I have a question for you.”

 “O..k..?”

 “If what you said to Sam was true, that you don’t want him around anymore, why are you looking for him?”

 Dean rubbed his face and sighed. “Because… because he’s my brother. And as much as we sometimes hurt each other, that matters.”

 OoOoO

 Jody shook her head as she finally hung up with the two hunters and by-stander/Sam’s ex. Those boys… she loved them both dearly, Sam and Dean, but sometimes she wanted to knock their heads together and see if it improved anything. If Bobby was still around, he’d probably help, she thought with a smile. Hell, he’d give them more of a dressing down than she’d done.

 Her smile faded as she thought about what else Dean had said. Some Truth Curse had split the boys down the middle, just as they were repairing that bridge. While she was often torn between hating she knew about the supernatural world and being grateful because she was able to be more prepared, right now she was cursing it, their father for raising them in the life, and everything supernatural for all the Hell, literal and figurative, it had put these boys through. At the same time her mothering instincts told her to both protect them and smack them to teach them a lesson.

 Shaking her head and taking one last swallow of coffee, she headed in to work. Hopefully Dean would call her with news as they once more tried tracking down Sam’s aliases.

 OoOoO

 Amelia was freshening up while Dean ran another search on Sam’s laptop _for_ Sam; Garth was playing tug of war with Riot.

 “What about – ” Garth started to ask, when there was a knock at the door.

 Motioning Amelia to stay back when she stuck her head out, Dean drew the gun from his waistband and slowly approached the door. Behind him, Garth did the same after handing the dog over to Amelia.

 Peering through the peephole, Dean felt his jaw fall open. Lowering his weapon, he yanked the door open to reveal Sam.

 “What the hell man?!” he demanded his tall sibling. “You run off, leave that dumb ass note, and now just stroll on back like nothing happened? Like you didn’t up and vanish?”

 Sam sighed, looking ashamed as he ran a hand through his hair. “I… overreacted. I’m sorry Dean. I know I’ve put you through so shit, it’s not surprising you’d hold a grudge. The penny just brought it to the surface.”

 “Sam?” Amelia’s shocked whisper as she edged around Garth, who flung his arm out to stop her. His weapon was still pointed at Sam. “Test him.”

 “What?” Amelia looked from Sam to Garth. “That’s Sam, I’d know him anywhere.”

 At the same time, staring at her, Sam said, “Amelia, what’re you doing here?”

 “They came to my clinic looking for you after you two fought, hoping you had come there,” she said, tears in her eyes. “We were so worried!”

 Once again, she tried to go to him, but Garth held her back firmly. “Dean, test him.”

 Dean turned to his brother. “You know the routine, Sammy.”

 Sam sighed and stepped inside, over the salt line hidden under the rug as he tugged a silver blade from his pocket. Palm up, he nicked the skin so he bled.

 Eyeing him carefully, Dean tossed holy water in his face, causing Sam to splutter in indignation. “Really? You couldn’t just pour some on my hand, Dean?”

 “Fine. Here –” he splashed borax-laced water on the non-bleeding hand. “Have some soap.”

 Nothing happened.

 Dean gave a half chuckle, half sigh of relief. “C’mere,” he tugged Sam out of the open door and into a hug.

 “Will someone tell me what the _Hell_ is going on here?” Amelia demanded, now edging away from the three men. “Are you all crazy?” she looked at Sam. “Were you always like this?”

 Beside her, Riot caught sight of Sam, and growled, hackles up.

 Sam held up his hands in a calming manner, his forehead creased with worry. “Amelia, please, let me explain. Please.”

 “Better be a damn good explanation,” she grumbled, eyeing them distrustfully. She reached down to pet Riot, who quieted under her hand, but still stood stiffly at her side, hackles up and teeth bared.

 Sam shut the door as Garth grabbed him in a bear hug. “Missed ya, man!”

 The hiss of burning skin and a pain cry. Sam shoved Garth away as he fell to his knees, one hand clenched to the back of his neck.

 “Garth, what the hell!” Dean shouted as Garth leveled his gun at the crouching Sam.

 The other hunter held up the hand not holding a finger to the trigger, showing off a silver bracelet. “That’s not Sam.”

 OoOoO

 As Alex announced they were approaching Sioux Falls City Limits, Sam finally, after nearly two dozen games managed to beat Sierra at a game of cribbage on the back bunk, Molly sprawled between them, her paws stretched out to touch his knee.

 “Finally! I win!” Sam chuckled, doting on the green eyed cat, who merely purred up at him.

 Sierra smiled. “Well having a 24 hand and then 16 in your freaking  _brib_ tend to give you a good leg up. Very nice playing!”

 Suddenly, Alex swore.

“What is it?”

 “We’re being pulled over. Damn it, if they inspect the logbook… I’m just about out of hours!”

 Sierra got to her feet, her smile sliding off her face. “Stay back here,” she told him as she tugged the heavy gray plastic curtains out of their ties. “Hopefully we can get by on saying it’s covered in dirty laundry.”

 Sam leaned against the wall on the passenger side and listened as the air breaks hissed and the engine turned off. Sierra’s door opened.

 “Hello, ladies. How are we at this nice and early morning?”

 Jody Mills.

 Of all the cops in the area, it had to be Jody?

 “A little chilly, compared to where we were yesterday, but alright besides that.” Alex said cheerfully.

 “Good, good. Mind if I hop up and look at your logbook?”

 Sierra seat shook as she stood up and leaned against driver’s seat, back to the curtains.

 “Aren’t you going to stand in back? More room,” Jody commented.

 Sierra chuckled. “Not really. Full of dirty laundry. Gonna do laundry as soon as this load is dropped.”

 “Gotcha. Then I recommend the Flying J, if you’re not familiar with the truck stops here. The Love’s is a bit… trashy for my taste. Nice ink, by the way. Both of you.”

 “Thanks.”

 She knows, Sam thought. Garth, Dean, someone has talked to her. But why isn’t she just asking about me, or outright talking to me?

 “You’re cutting it pretty close, aren’t you? Less than two hours left.”

 “We’re a couple miles from the drop, and then it’s just a few more to the Flying J you recommended. It’ll be tight but we can make it. Then a day or so to recoop.”

 Jody grunted. “Well, just let me go run your license, registration and insurance, and you can be on your – hey, you ok there?”

 Sierra’s silhouette was hunched. “Yeah,” she said, her voice strained. “Sorry. Migraine…”

 Sam heard Jody moving to get out when Sierra _screamed_ “DON’T!!”

 He saw her yank Jody back from the open door as thunder crashed from what had been a completely open sky. The trailer rocked as if heavy gusts of wind were attacking it from all sides, shaking their way up to the truck; a tire blew on the trailer.

 Then black smoke dancing with electricity swamped the truck.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: brief reference to self harm.
> 
> SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONNGGGG.  
> Life had been hard and busy lately. Trying to get back into the swing of writing, and this was th story I chose to start back up first. Lucky you guys!

Sam caught Sierra as she fell backwards into the sleeper, knocking them both back against the lower bunk. He could smell the reek of the demons outside, leaking in through who knew where. In the front of the cab, both women were swearing.

As suddenly as the cloud of demons appeared, they vanished.

"Everyone ok?" asked Sam shakily.

"What the hell was that?" Jody demanded at the same time.

"Demons, without human meat sacks to wear." Sam told her. Then he stiffened. "Jody do you have an antipossesion tattoo?"

"No."

The demon knife was, unfortunately, closed up in the top bunk well out of reach. Nontheless, he slowly started to get to his feet, eyes never leaving Jody. Once he released Sierra she slumped against the fridge. "Sierra, you ok?" he asked, not trusting Jody - well, the demon that might be wearing her - to attack Alex, or to come in the back and attack him. "Sierra?"

No answer.

Risking a glance down, the first thing Same noticed was blood. A line of it ran down her cheek from her nose, another the corner of her mouth. She was slouched against the fridge, her skin pale white and glistening with sweat; her breathing short and uneven.

"Get her up on the bed." Alex ordered, turning in her seat to join them in the back.

His eyes darted from her to Jody. "What about her?"

"She's still her, and no one else. The wardings on the truck, inside and out, all held, Sam. There are backup alarms to let us know if they had failed." Alex informed him. "Not to mention the cats attacked the last couple demons they saw. Now, please, get Sierra up on the back, and switch places with me. She probably got overwhelmed with their energy, had a seizure and bit her tongue. But I want to make sure nothing else is wrong."

Scooping up the blonde was easy. Laying her on the lower bunk, he did a brief check of her himself before switching places with Alex, but only after grabbing the demon blade as a precaution.

"You gonna stab me, Winchester?" Jody asked.

"Since you don't have an antipossession, I want to make sure I can defend myself, and them, if I have to," He informed her seriously. "But I think holy water will do for now."

Without warning he splashed the open vial he'd hidden at his side in her face. Eyes shut and face dripping wet, Jody still managed to scowl at him. "Thanks ever so much, Winchester. Couldn't give a girl a little warning?"

Sam found himself chuckling a little. "Wanted to surprise you."

On the bunk, Alex was helping Sierra sit up. "You ok there, blonde?" Jody asked.

Sierra nodded. "I take it she's in on the whole dark side of the world?" she asked Sam.

"You could say that." Sam grimaced. He turned to Jody. "I take it that it wasn't an accident you pulled us over? Did Dean call you?"

Jody nodded. "Yeah. He had gone the opposite direction of you; he went south, to Texas." She cocked an eyebrow at him, noticing as the color drained from his face. "I'm going to guess you know where he went, and to whom."

"You could say that," Sam muttered.

"Sounded like a spitfire of a woman. Heard her slap him at least once when he was badmouthing you even as he was asking for help to find you."

That caught Sam's attention and brought his gaze up from the worn purple carpet. "She slapped him? Slapped Dean? And he let her?"

Jody smirked in amusement. "Don't think he nessecarily  _let_  her, but he didn't react in any way other than to snap at her, to which she snapped right back. She held her own with him, don't you worry, Sam." She looked at him. "Despite his anger, Sam, he wants to find you. He loves you -"

Sam shook his head violently. "I'm not so sure, not anymore. He still feels a duty to dad, and to his memory, which includes his promise to protect me. He made it quite clear yesterday exactly how he really feels." Had it really only been yesterday?

Jody's eyes turned sad. "Sam, tell me what happened."

Sam hesitated, not wanting to relive out loud what kept replaying in his head. A hand appeared on his shoulder; Sierra. A calmness eased through her touch, whispering down into his core. Her face was hidden from view.

"Thought you were only an empath?"

"Empaths can put out or take in emotions too, if they want," she mumbled, her face still hidden. "Tell her what you need to; it will help in the long run."

So, with a shaky breath, he did.

OoOoO

"What the hell is going on here?!" Amelia shouted as both men pointed guns and the PsuedoSam.

PseudoSam smile coldly at her. "Sam, Sam, Sam. Always about Sam, isn't it, big brother Dean?" He turned to Dean. "Was surprised to catch up with dear Sam without his little big brother nearby. Then again, the state he was in..." He shook his head.

"What did you do to my brother?" Dean snarled.

Behind him, he heard Garth say, "Short of it... all the things that go bump in the night, vampires, weres, magic, shifters, demons and things you can't even imagine are real. That is a shifter. They need a sample of DNA to change shape into someone else."

Amelia, no doubt in shock, didn't reply.

But that didn't matter. What mattered was right in front of him. The shifter would have needed Sam's DNA to shift into his form. Which meant... no.

Dean cocked his gun. "What have you done to my brother?"

The shifter smirked. "Nothing that he is still feeling, I promise you."

Dean growled. "That's not an answer. Where the hell is he? You might want to tell me before I blast you into oblivion."

PseudoSam strolled in and shut the door behind him, his eyes never leaving Dean's. "Does it matter? Everyone knows when the two famous Winchester brothers are not together, it's because they're on the outs with each other." He took a step forward, and cocked his head thoughtfully, just like Sam did sometimes. "Word has it you've replaced him with a vampire. Not either of those two humans, where is he, I wonder? Or are you on the outs with him too? Or are you bringing him dinner?" He nodded towards Amelia, who was now, albeit shakily, holding one of Garths backup guns; beside her, Riot snarled silently. "She's a fighter. Bet you both like that, don't you?"

"Listen up, you sick sonofabitch, no clue where Benny is; he went his own way, Sam and I went ours. End of story."

The shifter made a thoughtful noise. "Hmm. Yet here you are, states away from where I found your brother. Didn't seem like he was in his right mind. What did you guys fight about this time?"

Dean winced in spite of himself. Choosing to ignore the question, and the pain it brought up, he raised his gun and aimed it at the shifter's head. "Last chance to tell me where Sam is, or you die."

"But if you kill me, how will you find your brother?"

"I'll manage," Dean spat.

The shifter ignored the three guns at him at took a seat on the bed closer to the door. "How? you guys are down here, he's not. Don't even have your feathery friend to help you find him anymore, do you? He's still rotting in Purg-"

Rage finally boiling over, Dean fired his shot.

 _Cas_...

OoOoO

Sam took a seat on a park bench across from where the semi sat rather lopsided on the side of the road, Alex and a man in coveralls changing the tire that had blown; Jody stood with them.

Despite feeling better after talking to Jody about what had transpired the day before, Sam still felt the darkness whispering at the edges of his mind in his brother's voice, echoing what he had said, ranging from yesterday to thr voicemail to the day he had thrown away the amulet to everything inbetween.

He reached up to touch the amulet he had saved from the trash that day, hidden on the cord beneath his shirt. A painful reminder of what he had lost, what he still loved.

He forced a smile as Sierra came up to him and took a seat on the bench next to him. "Are you sure you don't want to come with us? We won't mind at all."

Sam shook his head. "I'll manage, don't worry. I have before."

Sierra cocked a single eyebrow at him. She didn't believe him, and he didn't blame her; hard to lie about your feelings and emotions to someone who could feel them. With a sigh, she touched his arm. "Stay strong, Sam. I know its hard, most times, but try."

He shrugged, deciding to be honest with her. "Sometimes I don't see a point in fighting anymore. The people I love are either better off without me, gone or want me gone, or are dead. Why should I keep going if there is nothing and no one to keep going for?"

She studied him for a few moments before saying, "Because your story isn't over yet. From what your friend Jody said, your brother is looking for you, whether you want him to or not.

Maybe you're right and he's only doing it out of duty. But maybe you're wrong. Maybe he's doing it because despite everything that has happened between the two of you, he still loves you."

Sam shook his head. "I've caused him so much pain. Even if he does still love be despite all that, he is better off without me."

Sierra sighed, turning so she was facing him. "Whether that is true or not, he's still going to look for you. Are you going to let him find you?"

"I don't know," Sam replied. He rubbed his face. "I don't know if I should, if he will keep looking, or if I should just keep running."

"What about the person you love?"

"She's better off without me, and what I carry. Being with her was a... life saving change. But then her husband turned out to be alive, and I couldn't stay, especially after I found out Dean was... back. It's why I didn't go to her when I left Dean."

Sierra was looking at him oddly.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"There is someone else," she said softly, almost as if she was lost in thought.

"Well there was Jessica, but she's dead." Because of me, he added silently.

The blonde shook her head. "There is another. Your love for them is similar to when you mention Jessica and Amelia, yet different. Strong, painful, and deep. If I had to give it a name, a color, it'd be blue. Almost sky blue, but warmer, and humorous, and far away, and... different."

A loud honk brought her out of whatever trance-like state she'd been in. She shook her head. "Did I go all weird empath reader trancey?" she asked with a chuckle. "Hope it wasn't too embarassing. I can't control when that happens, which isn't very often, thank the Goddess. But I do tend to touch on things people didn't know were inside of them, or they want left hidden."

Sam treated her to a real smile. "All you did was confuse the heck out of me, so don't feel bad."

Another honk. Sierra flapped her hand dismissively at the truck without looking at it. "Keep fighting, Sam. One day at a time." Suddenly she hugged him. "Call me if you ever need anything, ok? We have contacts all over the states if you ever need help. Not all of them are human, but all are people or creatures I would trust to help you."

Sam hugged her back. "Thank you, Sierra. For everything. And thank Alex too. And Molly and Boo." It felt odd saying to say thank you to two cats, but he felt they were more than just cats anyways.

"I will."

Jody, having crossed the road over to them nodded to Sierra as the empath got up to leave. "Thank you for grabbing me before I got out of the truck when the demon storm showed up and tried to rain on our parade. I'd make a horrible cop with a demon riding shotgun."

Sierra grinned. "Anytime, Sheriff. Go get an anti-possession tattoo, and take care of our Sam, yeah?"

Jody nodded. "Like he was my own."

She sat wordlessly next to him as the red frieghtliner pulled away with one last honk.

Jody was the first to break the silence. "I take it you don't want me to tell your brother you're here?"

Sam sighed heavily. "At least not until I've had time to clear out of here. See if you can get him to stop coming after me; I don't want to be found."

"You boys are gonna give me gray hair and send me to an early grave with all of the tension and fighting, you know that right?"

Sam winced, but tried to smile. "You can always dye your hair. As for an early grave, not if either of us have anything to say about it."

OoOoO

Surprisingly, and not, the shifter ducked at the last moment, and Dean's bullet thudded into the far wall, not his skull.

PseudoSam clucked his disaproval. "Getting slow there, brother," he said mockingly. "What happened to those hunter reflexes? Or is it because I look like him that you can't bring yourself to pull the trigger properly?"

Another bark of a gun, and this time a spray of shifter blood splattered the horrid flower coverlet. Amelia gasped but held her ground; Garth came level with Dean. "Want another?" he asked."Tell us where Sam is."

The shifter's face was now twisted in ugly rage. "Bleeding out somewhere, I suspect."

Swiftly Dean shot the shifter in the other arm. "Where did you leave him?" he ground out.

The shifter blinked in mild surprise before laughing. "You clueless, oblivious humans. Never said I was the one who left him bleeding."

"You don't know where he is, do you? All you found were some bloody bandages and knew where they came from." That statement came from Amelia.

"Well, well. Give the bitch a prize." PseudoSam suddenly straightened, as if he didn't have bleeding wounds to hold him down anymore. "Guess you're smarter than you look."

"What are you guys talking about?" Dean demanded.

Amelia came up from behind to stand on Garth's other side. "I told you Sam has self harm issues he fights, remember? This... thing needs DNA to change its appearance, right? But why become Sam? Why come here?"

The shifter chuckled. "To take out one of the Winchesters? I'd be famous, and the shifters would stop being looked down on for good." His eyes hardened. "So, dear brother, how do you want to go?" He asked, shifting his weight; knives appeared in each hand, having been released from their arm sheaths.

The shifter didn't give Dean a chance to answer. He threw one knife at Amelia; Garth twisted, grabbing her and pulling her out of harms way, but her head struck the table on the way down. The knife imbedded itself deep in his back. Dean got off three shots, only one of which found its mark before the shifter was on him, knocking him onto his back and pinning him down. Throwing the gun away, the shifter held the remaining knife to the older Winchester's throat. "Nice try, brother. I'd take my time, but I know better. It'll just give you time to figure out a way to fight back. So lucky for you, it's nice and quick. Then I'll have your DNA. I can track your brother down, and take my time with him. I'll be able to hunt him, trap him..." The shifter closed his eyes briefly. "I'll tell him I'm not really you before he dies. But not until he's oh so close to the end."

Unable to move with the blade already cutting into the first layers of skin on his throat, all Dean could do was glare up at the shifter with dark hatred. "You stay the hell away from him!"

PseudoSam smirked as he pulled out Dean's boot knife. "Nah, don't think I will. Can't pass up that much fun. I'll tell him you send your love. Goodbye, Dean."

The shifter raised the stolen knife, and brought it plunging down towards Dean's chest.

A blinding light shone from behind the shifter, who's face now wore a look of utter shock, his body frozen with the knife barely a foot from Dean's chest. Then he disolved into fleshy goo on top of Dean.

The older Winchester shoved himself backwards, grabbing the dropped knife and struggled to his feet to face the shifter's killer.

And froze. He couldn't breathe.

"Hello, Dean."

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Mention of self-harm, self-worth issues

Be Free Chapter 7

Jody had - practically at gunpoint - made Sam promise to at least have dinner with her before splitting from town, with the additional promise of keys to an older ford truck with a covered back. So he decided to spend the time wisely, visiting the Dollar General and a second hand clothing store down the road from the police department.

The first thing into his cart was a burn phone. He had gotten rid of or left behind all of his cell phones, and wanted to be able to at least keep tabs with Jody on what his brother was up to, and on the off chance he decided to take Sierra up on her offer of assistance - which was doubtful, since he planned on dropping off of everyones radar - but if his brother came close to finding him, maybe one of her contacts could hide him.

Steering the squeaky cart down the food aisle, Sam picked up non-perishable foodstuffs without really realizing what he was getting beyond jerky, canned food ranging from semi-healthy to spagetti-Os - where he was half-planning on going, canned food would last him a lot longer than fresh food, and he could always venture into the nearby town for fresh food - as well as water and coffee. Matches, a flashlight and batteries joined the food a minute later.

He paid with barely half a dozen words spoken to the cashier.

Across the street at the second hand store, Sam was pleased to find a hiking backpack with a decent sleeping bag strapped to the base.

"Just so you know, dear, everything is half off today, so feel free to have a thorough look around, especially if you mean to go camping soon," The older lady behind the counter told him. "Lots of almost new clothing, not to mention the stuff from some of the local stores that they can't sell, they give to us."

"Thanks," Sam replied, feeling slightly better about his thinning finances. There was one last card he still had tucked away, but he didn't want to use it yet and tip off Garth and his brother to his location. He would clean it out right before he left, because he had no doubt in the world as soon as he left, Jody would call Dean to let him know she'd seen him. Not that he blamed her, he knew she worried about them both. Part of him was surprised she wasn't locking him up and calling Dean right away, so he took his blessings when they showed up.

Two pairs of jeans, three plaid button downs, a couple of almost new navy army issue cargos and heavier jackets joined the hiking backpack at the front of the store, where the woman, whose nametag read Alice bagged them up in paper bags from the local grocers with outdated ads printed on the sides. She watched Sam as he made one last circle around the store, making him feel slightly uncomfortable, but she never said a word.

Arms almost uncomfortably loaded down, Sam headed for Jody's car and piled it all in the back. Now was the time to sort and repack it all, he knew. But he was so tired...

_Left me to rot in Purgatory!_

Sam winced at Dean's accusing voice. It had all but been silenced when he was with Sierra and Alex. He briefly wondered if that was more of Sierra's empathic ability before another, older accusation rang in his head

_You're a monster, Sam! A vampire!_

No, no I'm not. Not for a long time, Sam wanted to argue. But it was pointless. Dean wasn't here. Instead Sam eased into the front seat of Jody's car with a heavy sigh. Pain was crawling through his veins, burning and aching as words from Dean, Castiel, Lucifer, his own mind all swirled into storm of barbed accusations and truths.

 _Cut_...

No. Not here, not now. Not when Jody might see. She'd hit him over the head and lock him up if she thought she had to to protect him. No one could ever say the sheriff didn't care...

...or did she, truly? It was partly his fault, after all, she was involved in their world of horrors and nightmares after all. She had lost her family to this otherworld, she should blame him. Knowing the truth put her in even more danger from the creatures that go bump in the night, not to mention the ones who also walked in the daylight. Even just that morning, she could have been killed, or worse, possessed, all because she was looking for him. If it hadn't been for Alex and Sierra already having wardings on their truck, and Sierra's empathic abilities telling her something evil was about to swamp them... he might have had to kill her himself. He didn't want to ever have to do that to her.

She should hate him.

 _Cut_...

Cut, to punish.

Cut, to feel something, anything, besides the aching pain of guilt and self-loathing and hatred in his chest.

better off dead...

Safer for everyone, that way.

OoOoO

"Hello, Dean."

Piecing eyes, dark hair, stained trenchcoat, dirty skin and all. It couldn't be...

"C-Cas? But how?" Dean pushed himself to his feet. "You another shifter?"

Castiel, or at least what looked like Castiel, cocked his head. "To my knowledge shifters are unable to take in and replicate angelic genetics."

"Oh God," a feminine voice said painfully. Amelia, blood running down the purpling side of her face which had stuck the table was hunched over Garth's unmoving body. She looked up at him, glancing at the newcomer. "We need to call an ambulance!"

Dean looked from her to Castiel. "You all juiced up?"

Castiel nodded as he knelt down next to Garth. "My grace has been fully restored, if that is what you are asking."

"Who the hell is this?" Amelia demanded. "What if he's another one of those things?"

Castiel answered her before Dean could. "My name is Castiel. I am an Angel of the Lord." He pulled out the knife and covered the wound with a glowing hand. After a moment he stood up; all the was left on Garth's back was bloodstains and a hole in his shirt; luckily, at least from Garth's point of view, he had long since taken off his fringed leather jacket. "He will wake in an hour or so, and would probably be more comfortable waking up on the bed rather than the floor."

Amelia got unsteadily to her feet. "Wait, wait, wait. You're an angel?" She looked to Dean for help, who was staring at said angel. "Like, an angel angel?"

Dean was too in shock to answer her. "I thought you were dead, man. How... how are you here? How did you get out?"

Castiel didn't answer at first. He guided Amelia to sit on the closer bed before placing a gentle, glowing hand on Amelia's head. "Yes, I'm an angel. Sleep, for now. We will see about questions later."

Dean watched with silent impatience as the angel laid the woman back on the bed. He then stood with his back to the elder Winchester, seeming lost in thought.

"Cas? What how are you here?"

Finally, he turned around. "I don't know."

Dean frowned. "What, what do you mean you don't know? How can can you not know how you got out of that place?"

"I don't know," Castiel repeated slowly. In a more normal voice, he continued, "I have no memory of how I got out, or who pulled me out. I have been searching for answers while also trying to seek you. I had been having no luck until when I heard your call."

"Well, thanks for showing up when you did, or we'd be dead." Dean, unable to contain himself any longer, grabbed the grimy angel and friend he thought he had lost and pulled him into a hug. "Good to see you again, man."

Castiel awkwardly returned the hug before stepping back once Dean released him. "Who is she?"

"One of Sam's exes. Long story."

Castiel started to nod in understanding, but movement made him look down with a frown as Riot, who had been beside Amelia inched himself close enough to give the angel's coat a good sniff. The dog then looked up at him and whined. Castiel's eyes opened a fraction wider, though his frown remained in place. "Where is Sam?"

Dean sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know. I said some things while under the influence of a honesty-inducing piece of change, and he bolted when I wasn't looking. Garth and I tracked him to a gas station where he'd used one of his ATM cards, but he was long gone. He also either has dumped all his phones or turned them all off. All we had to go on was him getting into a semi with two inked up women, and the truck headed south. I had hoped he was headed here to her, but she says she hasn't seen him for months." He frowned. "And I suppose with the bone etching you did on the two of us you can't track him, can you?"

Castiel shook his head. "No, and I haven't heard him praying, either. What, exactly did you say to him?"

"That he couldn't be trusted, that I was pissed he hadn't looked for me while I was stuck in Purgatory - this is the girl he left me there for, by the way - that Benny was more of a brother to me than he was being..." Dean threw up his hands. "Hell, could be more but the honesty comes hand in hand with amnesia, and all I have to go on is what Garth told me I said."

For a moment, Castiel remained silent. "Is there anyone else he would have gone to if he was... upset?"

"Already called Jody Mills, a friend of Bobby's, she hasn't seen him, but told her to be on the lookout for him and the truck he got into, just in case." Dean sat down on the empty bed without realizing it. "Bobby's dead, and I don't really know if Sammy made any other contacts while we were gone. He never mentioned any, but that doesn't mean squat."

"Did you recognize the women he got into the truck with?"

Dean shook his head. "No, but he was on edge with them at least at first. And they were inked up. Like ink like us, they each had an anti-possession tattoo, some other witchy symbols, and what could have been warding for both demons and angels but hard to tell with the crappy surveillance system the station had. I don't know if they were friends of his, or they forced him to come with them."

On the floor, Garth groaned, then coughed, trying to roll himself upright. "What the hell happened?"

"You were stabbed in the back and dying, so I healed you." Castiel informed him bluntly.

Garth's eyes flickered from the angel to Dean. "Is he for real?"

Dean smirked humorlessly. "Yup. Meet Castiel, an angel."

Garth's eyes widened. "No way. Seriously?"

Castiel tilted his head in confusion. "I am not in the habit of joking, especially about who I am."

"What-" Garth started, only to catch sight of Dean behind the angel, shaking his head.

"He doesn't have much of a sense of humor," Dean said. "But he is who he says he is. I've known him for years, and was stuck in Purgatory with me. Hell I thought he was still in there."

Garth nodded, choosing to say nothing. Then he looked around frantically. "Where's fake Sam?"

"Ganked by the angel over there," Dean informed him, waving to the mess on his shirt. "Was on top of me, ready for the kill when he dissolved into a mess, and there was Castiel."

Garth got to his feet with a wince. "Don't supposed you can find Sam for us, can you?"

"No. Both Dean and Sam are shielded from being located by any angel, including me."

"Damn," the hunter cursed softly. "Was worth a shot."

"Well I don't know about you guys, but I want to get shifter goo off of me." said Dean, pulling a relatively clean set of clothes from his bag. "Don't you fly off yet," he added sternly, pointing a finger at Castiel. "I still want to talk to you. So unless you hear from Sam, you stay put, caprice?"

Brow furrowed, Castiel replied, "I... caprice."

OoOoO

Some time later, a gentle hand shook Sam awake. Blinking sleep from his eyes, Dean pushed himself out of the slumped position he had slipped into. "Hey, Jody. Sorry..."

Jody waved his apology off as she started her car. "Don't worry about it, Sam. If you're hungry, let's go eat. And then if you still want to, you can leave."

 OoOoO

The diner she took him to looked like countless diners he had eaten at across the states; Formica table and countertops, ugly tiled floors, grumpy regulars perched at the breakfast counter. At least here the waitresses weren't wearing uniforms.

"Hey, Jody! The usual?" a balding, thin man was poking his head out of the kitchen. Then he caught sight of Sam. "Finally on a date, Jody? Rather young for you, eh?" Then he laughed.

Jody shook her head as their waitress brought out waters and a menu for Sam. "Old family friend, Danny. And yes, my usual. But wait until Sam figures out what he wants."

Sam opened the menu, trying to ignore the fact that once their waitress walked away, Jody fixed his with a very heavy look. It didn't take her long to break the silence. "I know what you told me this morning, what Dean said..." She sighed. "It was out of his control, regardless it was the truth. And now he's looking for you. That has to mean something, doesn't it?"

Having decided on a farmer's omlete, toast and fruit, Sam closed the menu and set it aside. "He's looking for me because it's his job, given to him when he was only four years old by our father, and he's still trying to do so to honor dad's memory. We've had too many..." he groped for the right word. "too many actions and words done and spoken between us to ever repair. I'm setting him free."

Right then, their waitress - Sally - came up for Sam's order, giving both parties at the table time to think. After she walked off, Jody said, "I know you boys have been through way too much shit, other people would not have made it through. But I suppose even you two have your breaking point." She leaned back with another sigh. "What will you do?"

Sam shrugged. "Find somewhere, lay low. If there's a local hunt, maybe I'll deal with it, but I don't want to risk running into Dean. Beyond that... I'm not sure." A half lie, but she didn't need to know that.

"Know where you're gonna go yet?"

Sam's only response was a frown and raised eyebrow.

Jody chuckled. "Can't blame me for being curious. Guess it's better this way. If Dean shows up I can tell him honestly that I have no idea where you went."

"What about the truck?" asked Sam.

"What about it?"

Sam eyed her speculatively. "Is it trackable?"

"God, no. It's one of Bobby's old ones, no traceable tech in it. And no," she added, shaking her finger at him when he opened his mouth. "I haven't added any, nor have I asked anyone to do so. If your brother wants to find you, he'll have to do so on his own. I will tell him I saw you, but hey," She threw her hands up, eyes wide. "I went into my house to get you some blankets, and you left so I have no idea which way you went."  
  
Sam believed her, though to be safe he'd still go over the truck inch by inch. "Thanks, Jody."

OoOoO

True to her word, there it sat. Older Ford pickup with a covered bed. Peering in, he could see someone, sometime, had waterproofed it. In the back were some blankets, a couple of brand new tarps, rope, a very heavy duty sleeping bag, a stuffed backpack and a couple of closed boxes.

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. It had been a long time someone had been so nice to him, without wanting or expecting something in return. "Thanks, Jody. You didn't have to go though such trouble..."

"No trouble, Sam. Wherever you're going, I want you to be prepared." She smiled. "C'mon, let's get you loaded up."

With the two of them, loading the back with his purchases didn't take very long. He didn't give much attention to how it all was put in, he would organize it all later. It would take him two days at the most to get where he was planning on going.

"Now," said Jody, dangling the keys between them, "There is a price for these. I saw you bought a burner phone. I want you to call me, at least once a week, to let me know you're ok. Got it?"

As far as prices went, this wasn't so bad, especially when he had been expecting it. "Yes. Ma'am."

She punched his shoulder lightly. "Don't 'ma'am' me. Makes me feel old. Now, you've got everything out of my car. And I saw you use the ATM at the diner. Anything else you need before I 'go get you some blankets'?" she asked, her fingers shaping quotation marks with the question.

Sam shook his head. "Nope, good to go."

Jody pulled him into a tight hug. "Don't forget to check in with me, young man." She pushed him gently towards the truck and walking backwards towards her house. "Or I'll find a way to track your ass down."

"I won't forget."

OoOoO

As soon as she vanished into her house, Sam left. On the seat next to him was a spiral bound map of what looked like the entire lower US as well as Canada. He didn't need it, at least for now. He knew the general direction of where he wanted to go. He could deal with the specifics of how to get there when he got closer.

Kind of ironic, his chosen hiding place.

Devil's Lake.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Devil's Lake and Campground is a real place in southern Wisconsin. I have camped there a couple of times. Beautiful place.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING!!! Graphic depiction of self-harm/cutting, mention of suicidal thoughts/idealation. DO NOT READ if will trigger you, please!!
> 
> On a better note, yay an update! I LIIIIVE

  
It was going on three in the afternoon. Castiel and Dean spoke in low tones at the tiny table in the hotel room, the hunter's hair still damp from his rather long shower; Garth was seated next to Amelia, Riot between them as he did his best to answer questions she had - in a very general way, of course, whenever possible.

Dean couldn't stop staring at the angel, still not believing his eyes. "I can't believe it, man." he shook his head. "Last time I saw you... in Purgatory..." he voice broke. "I let you fall, Cas. I'm so, so sorry."

Castiel's brow furrowed, head cocked to one side. "You did not let me fall, Dean. I pulled myself free. I stayed behind. It was my choice. I am very glad you made it out alive."

"That's not how I remember events going down that day."

"I believe human psychologists call it 'survivor's guilt'," Castiel replied, fingers making air quotes that made Dean smile in spite of himself. "But I am telling you the truth. I stayed to give you - and your friend, Benny - time to get away. Where is Benny?"

Dean winced at the mention of the vampire. "Dunno. Last I heard somewhere in Louisiana."

"That Benny you mentioned yesterday was in Purgatory with you?" Garth asked from the bed. "What the heck is he, and how did he get out with you? I thought you said they couldn't leave, it was their version of Hell."

"Benny is a vampire who helped Dean and I on a number of occasions in Purgatory," Castiel told him when Dean remained silent. "Dean carried his soul in his arm until he could get to where is remains were buried, and bring him back."

Beside Garth, Amelia petted Riot with a shaking hand. "If it wasn't for seeing that... thing, earlier, I'd think you were all insane, Sam included. But... that monster, him healing our injuries" - she nodded her head in the angel's direction - "I understand that what you're saying is real, it's just... too much to take in. Demons, angels, vampires, shifters..."

"Tell me about it. I've been in this life since I was four years old; Sammy was only 6 months when a demon killed our mom." Dean said softly. "I wouldn't wish this on anyone, not even you."

Amelia scowled, but didn't say anything; his voice lacked venom; she could let the barb go, this time. "That cop you called earlier, looking for Sam; is she a... hunter, like you guys? Did she grow up in it too?"

Dean shook his head. "She's a part of it, but it didn't happen until the last couple of years." When the woman looked at him quizzically, he sighed. "Something was bringing the dead back to life; spouses, parents, siblings, children. It brought her 7 year old son back. Then the thing turned into a monster and killed her husband in front of her. Don't mention that in front of her!" He added warningly.

Amelia snorted. "I'm not that insensitive, what do you take me for, a guy?"

Dean's phone ringing cut off his heated retort. "Jody? Any news?" he put her on speaker.

"I saw Sam."

"Thank God! Do you have him locked up?" Dean demanded.

Silence.

"Jody, please tell me he's locked up, or knocked out, or something!"

"He's gone, Dean. I don't know where. I made him hang around until after I got done with my shift, and took him out to make him eat something, and try to talk some sense into him. Thought it was working, so we came back to my place so he could rest, and make decisions from there. Offered him an old truck I have at the back of my lot that's still running, since he didn't want to stay inside, something about it wasn't safe. I went into get him some blankets, and he was gone, with the truck."

"Son of a bitch!"

OoOoO

Sam made good time from Jody's, with a short stop and a lucky find of a used but functional small pop-up trailer well within his budget; the guy was glad to be rid of it, claiming it was his ex-wife's.

He made it to Devil's Lake Park and Campground with time to spare before dusk, asking for a quiet lot away from the busy areas if possible, spinning a tail he was a writer who wanted peace and quiet to work on his mystery novel. Ava, the overly cheerful older woman at the desk, a mystery book fanatic, was more than happy to help him, especially when he promised her a signed first addition.

The lot he rented for two weeks with the option of extending was near enough to the latrine to be handy but not smell, plenty of woods all around, and a small creek on one side.

It was perfect.

He placed warding sigils all over the inside the bed of the truck as well as the trailer. One of the boxes also contained some wire-shaped wards to hang, which he placed around the campsite. They were tied to a piece of crystal which would glow and point in the direction of any supernatural disturbance trying to penetrate the wire wards.

The phone, already charged, was tossed on the tiny table inside the trailer as he set up the sleeping bag and blankets on bed. Weapons were tucked all around the truck within easy reach: guns loaded with silver, salt, lead, inscripted... knives of all sizes... vials of holy water....

Sam kept trying to find things to do to keep himself busy, from thinking, but there was only so much he could do to keep himself distracted until...

_Left me to rot in Purgatory!_

_Benny's been more of a brother to me than you've ever been!_

_Let's go through some of Sammy's greatest hits._

_You're a monster, Sam. A vampire!_

_If I didn't know you, I'd want to hunt you!_

Sam winced as his mind delved further into the past.

_I'm done trying to save you!_

_Pick a hemisphere._

_Sam Winchester, Boy with the Demon Blood._

Great. Let's add Castiel. Who's next, Bobby? Lucifer?

_I'm sick and tired of cleaning up after your messes, Sam._

_You lose my number, boy._

_No one will miss you. No one cares about you. Don't you see? They all know what you're going through; they just don't CARE, Sammy._

Oops. Spoke too soon.

At some point, a razor blade found its way into Sam's hand; blood was already running down his arm from a formerly healed scar; it's one of the ways he's hidden his cutting so far, cutting over wounds that are already there; no one questions that. It also hurts more, though doesn't bleed as much.

But sometimes, blood and pain are both needed.

_You set Lucifer free!_

_...Boy with the Demon Blood..._

_...you let me down..._

_...Ruby. How could you trust her?!_

_Betrayed me..._

Sam slid the blade across a spot of undamaged flesh, barely enough to leave a mark.

_Do I really mean so little to you, Sam?!_

_...should have looked for me!...._

Again and again, Sam cut over the same spot, working the blade slowly deeper. He did it this way, sometimes, instead of one swift cut. Cutting back the layers of himself, to reveal the truths.

Sam, the reason his mom was dead.

Sam, the good for nothing son and brother.

Sam, the straight A student turned drop out.

Sam, the reason Jess was dead.

Sam, the reason his dad was dead.

Sam, the reason Dean went to hell.

Sam, the boy with the demon blood.

Sam, the betrayer of his brother.

Sam, who set Lucifer free.

Sam, who pulled his brother back into the hunting life.

Sam, who abandoned his brother - again - in Purgatory.

On and on the list went. Deeper and deeper, bit by bit, drop by drop until he nicked a larger vein.

Switch hands, repeat.

Blood pulsed out of the fresh cuts in time with his heartbeat in a mocking parody of a drumbeat. Red lines glistening down his arms from the cuts in a sporadic, interlaced design before dripping off his wrist and fingertips, down onto the old, stained carpet.

Great. He'd have to clean that up later. But right now, he couldn't bring himself to care.

He was still surprised, sometimes, that the blood was red. Often, in his nightmares, it was black again, and he'd wake up thirsty and afraid and soaked in sweat. And he'd cut, to make sure he still bled red, and to make the pounding, aching, burning fear and self-loathing and pain in his heart go away, even for just a little bit.

And right now, all he could do was wonder how many cuts he would have to make to end it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I know, not all the quotes are verbatem, or even exist in the series. I took creative writer liberties in having Sam's mind make up its own shit, as well as off screen memories of Lucifer.
> 
> Also, just guessing at Jody's son's age.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short, but I wanted to update this one with something!
> 
> Trigger Warning: brief reference to self-harm, suicide, and depression. Also brief, moderately graphic scene including past animal abuse

Dean forcefully requested Castiel to move him, Garth and their cars up to Jody Miller’s house. Before they left, Amelia demanded to be kept in the loop since she was unable to leave her practice until the weekend, and to be kept updated on any news, good or bad.  
  
“If you don’t, I _will_  neuter you,” she threatened. “ _Both_  of you.” She glanced at Castiel. “And I’ll think of something for you, too.”

“There is nothing you can do to me which will be physically damaging beyond my skill to heal.” Castiel said. “It would be pointless of you to even try.”

Amelia snorted. “Yeah, well, it’ll make me feel better.”

“We will keep you in the loop, I promise.” Garth told her soothingly, handing a piece of paper with his cell number written on it. “And if for any reason he contacts you, please call us.”

Amelia nodded, stuffing it into her scrub pocket. “Well, I could say it’s been a pleasure, or nice to meet you, but can’t really say that.” She shot a glare at Dean.

“What the hell did I do?!” Dean squawked.

Garth chuckled, holding up his hands when Dean turned to glare at him.

Amelia shook her head before heading for the door. “Riot, c’mon.”

Riot whined from his position on the bed next to Castiel. The angel turned to look down at him. “I do not believe there is anything you can currently do to be of assistance in our search.”

Riot grumbled, placing his head on his paws and sighing heavily.

“While that is true, we would first need to find his location first before you could track him.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Dean said, shaking his head. “You can speak dog?”

“I do not, as you put it, “speak dog”,” Castiel replied, fingers forming air quotes. “I am, however able to understand the majority of my Father’s creations, including anything in the canine family.” Castiel looked up at the gathered humans. “He wishes to come with us and assist in finding His Sam, as he puts it.”

To everyone’s surprise, Amelia chuckled. “I wish I could do that,” she said wistfully. “It would save me so much time if my patients could tell me what was the matter.” She shook her head, adding softly, “or who was abusing them. Filthy cowards.”

Castiel cocked his head. “Who was abusing whom?”

Amelia smiled sadly. “Humans, a lot of them, enjoying abusing animals. Here in the states, a good portion of it is dog fighting. Humans bully and condition dogs to fight each other for entertainment. That, or they just get a kick out of hurting animals. Two weeks ago I was brought two dying kittens found in a park; turned out some punk-ass kids had been using them as a soccer ball. Week before that was a bait dog torn up and dumped by the side of the road to die. At least she is in stable condition; the kittens both died while I was examining them.”

Castiel is frowning. “These humans do not sound very pleasant. Do human laws do anything?”

“Not nearly enough. A fine, a couple months in jail, if they’re caught at all.” Amelia growled; on the bed, Riot echoed her; it had been him his vet had taken blood from to save the mauled female Staffordshire Terrier, who was very sweet under her old scars and new wounds.

“Perhaps when we are done, I can assist you and Riot with a basic means of communication, such as a number of barks, or a cloth with words he can paw at.” Castiel offered.

Amelia beamed. “That would be awesome!”

OoOoO

In the end, Riot went with them, sticking close to Castiel’s side like a burr. This seemed to offset the angel, who pointed out as much to said dog as they let themselves into Jody’s house; she was in town, getting groceries (and beer and pie, at Dean’s request). Riot’s only answer was to look over at Dean and growl.

“Hey, don’t growl at me in that tone of voice!” Dean said, shaking a finger at the beast.

“He believes you are the reason Sam is missing. He can smell your regret and worry.” Castiel said, not seeming to find it at all odd he was playing interpreter for a dog.

On the other side of the kitchen Garth burst out laughing.

Dean glared at the other hunter. “Keep laughing. I won’t share my pie with you. _Or_  the beer!”

Garth attempted to sober up immediately, turning away from Dean and giving Riot a thumbs up; the dog barked once. It must have been in agreement, because Castiel made a soft snort.

Dean decided to ignore them, choosing instead to pace the kitchen, trying to think up ideas as Garth yet again searched all of Sam’s known aliases.

“Angels are out, even if we could trust them. Not even Archangels, ‘cause your bone art hides us from them too, right?”

Castiel nodded. “That was one of the main reasons in the first place. Sam would have to pray for any of us to be ale to track him to his location.”

“Yeah, and he still think’s you’re dead, and he doesn’t trust any of the other angels. Well, maybe that prick Gabriel, but he’s gone too.”

Garth leaned back with a groan. “Nothing. Again. Next time I see him I’m putting a tracking chip inside him.”

Dean stopped pacing. “Tracking! What about getting a witch to dowse for him?”

Garth made a face. “Know any good living witches? ‘cause I don’t.”

Dean groaned in frustration. “Human methods are out, angelic methods are out…”

“Don’t tell me you want to summon a demon!” cried Garth. “There have to be other ways!”

“Well if you have any brainstorms, then spit it out!” Dean shouted. “The more we wait, the further away my brother is! And we’ve already established both human and angelic methods are out! It’s not like it’s the first time we’ve been forced to work with demons!”

“And look how those situations turn out. All the more reason to _not_  work with them, Dean.” Castiel pointed out.

“Yeah, well unless you can track down my brother or pull a Lucifer and stick yourself into his dreams, that might be the only plan which will work!” Dean spat before stomping out past Jody, her arms loaded with grocery bags.

“Well, _that_  sounded like a pleasant conversation,” she said dryly, setting the bags on the counter. “No luck yet, I take it?”

Garth shook his head. “Nothing. You’re _sure_  you don’t know where he was heading?”

Jody shook her head as she unpacked the bags. “No. I would tell you if I knew something.”

Garth got to his feet with a sigh. “I’m going to go find Dean before he decides to do something stupid, like summon the king of hell or something.”

Castiel waited until Garth was off the porch before turning to Jody. “You lied. You know where Sam went, don’t you.”

Jody, facing away from him, didn’t turn around as she answered, “No. I do not know where he went.” She sighed heavily, leaning her forehead against the cabinet door. “I hate it when my boys fight. They’re grown men, but I still feel responsible for them, feel like I need to take care of them.” She chuckled humorlessly. “It’s silly, isn’t it.”

Castiel moved to stand beside her. “You love and care about them. That is not silly. I understand your desire to help Sam by allowing him time to himself. But I fear for Sam’s mind, if not his life, if he is left alone.”

Jody spun to look at the angel. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Castiel’s brow wrinkled. “It is my understanding that, when in a deep emotional state of sadness, depression, or helplessness, humans can be… self-destructive, such as Dean’s drinking.”

“Are you saying Sam is self-destructive? How?”

“When I was able to finally find Dean, it was because he prayed to me,” Castiel told her. “They were being attacked by a shape-shifter, appearing to them as Sam. According to Dean, Garth and Amelia, the creature made veiled references getting the blood it needed to shape-shift into Sam because of Sam’s self-harm; Amelia confirmed that she had seen his scars. She also said one time while drunk Sam told her if it hadn’t been for hitting Riot –” Riot barked “ – he was going to go somewhere and commit suicide.”

Jody paled. “I knew he was depressed, but I didn’t think it was _that_  bad. I figured he was upset over the fight he had with Dean.”

“The time Sam spent with Amelia in Texas was while Dean and I were in Purgatory; Sam apparently felt responsible.”

“What the hell is Purgatory?” Jody demanded. Then she shook her head. “Never mind, another tale for a different day.” She messaged her temples with one hand while the other still supported her against the counter. “Look, I was being honest when I said I didn’t know where Sam was headed. I did happen to notice he spent a lot on camping equipment.”

“I shall ask Dean and Garth about searching places where he could be camping.”

Jody nodded. “Knowing him, he wouldn’t have stopped for a long ways, so that leaves… hell, it leaves just about everywhere.”

“Perhaps Dean might know places they camped as children with their father.” Castiel suggested.

“I highly doubt John Winchester ever made time for something as enjoyable as that,” Jody said darkly. “Bastard drove those to kids so hard, it’s a wonder they’re not turned into something like the monsters they hunt, or so insane they’re in an asylum.”

“From what I understand, they were once both in a mental hospital,” Castiel said, a faint spark of humor in his eyes. “They went undercover as patients to find a monster feeding on the patients and staff. I believe the story they told the doctor was about Sam hearing Lucifer in his head.”

The screen door slammed shut, halting anything Jody would have said. Garth stormed into the kitchen. “Please tell me one of you has had a breakthrough so I can kill that maniac.”

“Which who is the maniac?” Jody asked with a chortle.

“Dean.” Garth growled. “He’s planning on summoning Crowley.”

“Go stop him,” Jody said to Castiel. “Whomever that is, I doubt it’s good. I’ll tell Garth our idea.”

Castiel vanished in a flurry of wings.

Jody turned to Garth, taking a deep breath before relaying what she had told Castiel.

OoOoO

Castiel found Dean right as he was finishing the summoning circle.

“Dean stop, this is not a good idea.”

“Yeah well, I’m kinda out of options here!” Dean shouted.

“Jody told me she saw Sam buying camping equipment. It’s lead, Dean. Let’s exhaust it before taking such drastic measures as summoning Crowley.” Castiel replied calmly.

“How the hell is that going to help?” demanded Dean. “Do you have any idea how long it would take us to search campgrounds in just _one_  state, let alone in the lower 48 states?!”

“Perhaps the supplies Jody saw him with can help us rule out some locations. Come back to the house so we can at least discuss it.”

Dean, torn, looked from Castiel to the partially complete summoning circle. “I just, God, Cas, I gotta find him, no matter what it takes. If I have to summon Crowley to do so, then I will.”

“You rang?”

Angel and hunter whirled around to see Crowley, hands in his pockets, watching them, smirking. “Now what would you be needing me for, hmm, Dean Winchester?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone's curious, yes, some veterinary hospitals can actually do blood transfusions for their patients.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short update, but I wanted to post something.
> 
> Trigger warnings: depression, drug overdose, language, mild discription of self-harm aftermath.

“Now, what would you be needing me for, hmm, Dean Winchester?”

Angel and hunter watched the demon warily; said demon watched them back, his mouth quirked in a half smirk. His hands were comfortably half-tucked in the pockets of his typical black suit and red tie. “Must be something awfully dramatic if your little feather duster is unable to be of assistance, now that he’s back from his vacation in Purgatory. Good to see you again, mate, by the way,” the demon gave a mocking bow in the angel’s direction.

“I am not your mate.” Castiel replied, frowning.

For a brief moment, hunter and King of Hell shared a look of exasperated amusement at the angel’s lack of grasp on human expressions and idioms, even after years – decades, centuries, millennia, really – on and off of Earth.

Then Dean realized what he was doing, with Crowley of all people, and his scowl returned. “What the hell do you want, Crowley?”

“I’d say Hell, but hey, look at that; I already have it.” Crowley said sarcastically before rolling his eyes. “Am I not allowed to check on my Moose and Squirrel? Where is the Moose, anyways? The two of you are so inseparable and co-dependent on each other it can’t be healthy. Usually by now you’ve both threatened me with loss of life, limb, throne, blah, blah, blah.” He looked around expectantly, as if Sam would suddenly jump out from behind a tree or spring out from behind parked car.

“Who the hell is that?”

Jody and Garth were both aiming their weapons at Crowley; Jody had exchanged her sidearm for a shotgun. Beside the woman, Riot stood growling, hackles raised.

Crowley ignored Garth and Riot, and bowed to Jody – a real, honest-to-goodness, gentlemanly bow – and said, “Crowley, King of Hell, at your service. You most be… let’s see, we’re in Sioux Falls, former residence of one Bobby Singer. You must be the Sheriff Jody Mills.”

Jody’s jaw dropped even as she glared at Dean. “Did you really summon the King of Hell to find – ”

“I did no such thing!” Dean interrupted, shooting her and Garth a look. “He showed up on his own! Cas was getting me to wait!”

“So, what, he can track you but your angel can’t?” she retorted.

“I have no idea how he found me!” the hunter glared at the demon. “How the hell _did_  you find me, anyways?”

“I have my ways.” Crowley smirked. Then he continued, “So, what or whom are we looking for?”

Dean, Jody and Garth entered into a staring contest; Castiel alternated between watching them and eyeing Crowley with open suspicion. Riot continued to stare at the demon.

“Wait, King of Hell?” Jody broke out of the staring contest to glare at Crowley. “What were a cloud or whatever you call a group of demons doing near my town yesterday morning?”

“Love, I have demons all over the world –”

“And you have a shit ton of them to spare near Sioux Falls?! What the h – _fuck_  could be so interesting for you _here?!_ ” Jody interrupted. “Before you decide to try and distract me, _love_ , this is loaded with salt.”

“You have spirit. I like you.”

Jody didn’t know whether to be nauseous or disturbed. She settled for aiming her gun at his crouch and silently raised an eyebrow.

“Well, you’re no fun.” Crowley made a face, clearly not bothered by Jody’s threat. He sighed. “Fine. A large group of demons, near here, yesterday morning…” he made show of thinking. “I think I remember hearing something about some angel going around Madison or Milwaukee or some M-named city in Wisconsin, exorcising all of the demons in the city.” He looked at Castiel. “Friend of yours?”

Castiel shook his head. “I do not know of an angel with the Grace and the desire to rid an entire city of demons at once.”

“Hmm. Interesting. I shall have to look into it.” He turned to face Dean. “So, Squirrel, where is our dear Moose?”

Dean didn’t say a word, but something must have crossed his face, because suddenly Crowley was looking at them all with disbelief.

“You all misplaced the Moose? How does one manage to do that with a human of his size? Not to mention that ridiculous hair.”

No one answered, though Garth did send a glare at Dean. Riot barked at the demon, who raised his eyebrow at the dog.

“If you’re not careful, that tongue of yours is going to wind up turning you into a rug.” The demon informed the dog.

Riot sneezed twice before giving a growl/bark. Crowley laughed seemingly in spite of himself. “Well well, what do you know? A dog with a sense of humor.”

Dean and Garth looked to Castiel for help. The angel said, “It is not something I would like to repeat. It was… very crude.”

“Are men even as demons and dogs unable to stay focused?” Jody demanded, looking from one male to the other.

The King of Hell rolled his eyes. “Let me guess; he ran off after the two of you lovebirds had a fight,” he said to Dean, whose shocked look seemed to be the confirmation Crowley was looking for. “Don’t look so surprised, Dean. It’s not like you guys haven’t done this before. Would’ve thought you at least had learned your lesson after Sam ran off to Oklahoma and got himself beaten to a bloody pulp by those other hunters. Sam, on the other hand –”

“What?!” Dean shouted, weapon now pointing at the ground in shock. He corrected the mistake quickly. “What the fuck are you talking about?!”

“Oh, Sammy never told you? Pity. Was the talk of Hell that week. Weeks, actually.”

A shot rang out, and Crowley swore in pain; his right pant-leg now bore multiple small holes. He glared at Jody. “Now is that any way to ask for more information? I just got this suit! And what kind of salt leaves holes the size of peas?”

Already reloaded, Jody glared at him. “Sorry, forgot to mention the silver BBs mixed in with the salt. I already tried nicely, and that didn’t work. You’re a demon; aren’t you supposed to like pain?”

“Giving it? Certainly. Getting it? Not so much. Unless you want to strap on some revealing leather number – which I do have to admit you’d be very dashing in, by the way – and carry a whip. What do you say?” Crowley grinned at the shudder Jody gave at his suggestion. “Now, before we all go playing with our guns and other toys, why don’t we just be honest with each other, hmm?”

“Fine by me.” Dean growled. “What happened in Oklahoma, and why the hell are you here?”

Crowley crossed his arms. “Oklahoma? Let’s see. The two of you broke up. Sam decided to take a break from hunting, but there was demon activity, so he called Bobby, who called in some local hunters. Blah, blah, blah, they find out about Sam, including his role in jump-starting the Apocalypse, and demand he help them. Same declines. Hunters leave, try to take on before-mentioned demons, one of them dies. Remaining two swear vengeance of said demons. They take blood from a demon they did manage to capture and kill, and demand Sam take said blood and help them with their revenge. Sam refuses and proceeds to get beat up. Said hunters also attempt to force feed him the demon blood, and is unable to escape because the hunters took a human hostage to get Sam to comply. Eventually Sam manages to save the damsel in distress and makes his escape. The End.”

Crowley looked out at his audience; Jody looked furious. Garth looked sick. Castiel looked enraged, which surprised the demon; last he had heard, Dean’s feather duster considered the younger Winchester the unclean, tainted meat suit for his big brother Lucifer. Huh. Interesting.

And as for Dean… Dean looked ready to commit murder.

“Who were they? The hunters?” the hunter all but snarled.

Crowley shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t care. Probably dead by now anyways. My turn. Why has Sam gone on a walkabout this time, hmm?”

OoOoO

Sam woke up to the sound of rain on the roof of his little camper.

Groaning, he rolled onto his back, blinking blearily at the ceiling, wondering what time it was. It was moderately light out, but given the current weather that wasn’t a very good way to tell time. Without looking he groped the top of the counter next to him until he managed to grab his new cell. 7:33 AM glared in red numbers at him from the top of the cheap flip phone. He dropped it back onto the counter with a sigh and a clatter.

His wrists were throbbing beneath their bandages, the painkillers he had downed before crashing last night had worn off. He could get up and get some, he supposed, but that would mean moving from the bed, and his head was also throbbing at a tempo almost in sync with his wrists, and any movement sent it into a faster rhythm.

Besides, it wasn’t like he didn’t deserve the pain, right?

Convincing himself to stay put and try to go back to sleep didn’t last long.

_LEFT ME TO ROT IN PURGATORY!_

_YOU’RE A MONSTER, SAM!_

_SAM, THE BOY WITH THE DEMON BLOOD!_

So his mind couldn’t even let him wake up in peace or go back to sleep now. Lovely.

Plink!

Plink!

Plink plink!

Sam glared over at the offending noise; there was apparently a leak over the kitchenette table. With a muttered oath Sam pushed himself upright, wincing at the pressure placed on his right wrist; unable to be as controlled with his less dominant hand, he sometimes cut a little too deep or too long. Not to mention going from horizontal to vertical sent the pounding in his head into overdrive and nausea tickled the back of his throat.

Swallowing rising bile back, Sam stumbled across the trailer and grabbed a plastic container, placing it under the offending leak. Peering up at the roof, he didn’t see any more apparent leaks, but this was only a mild shower. Hopefully no more would make an appearance should the shower turn into a downpour. He would have to cover it with a tarp if the weather didn’t clear up soon.

Deciding if was going to remain conscious he might as well have some coffee, Sam went through the motions of loading the small coffeemaker he had found in the back of the truck in one of the boxes Jody had more than likely packed for him, downing four T3’s with a gulp of water straight out of the glass coffee pitcher.

While it was brewing Sam dumped a 50/50 mixture of water and bleach onto the carpet. He had partially cleaned up his mess last night, but there was still a reddish brown tint to parts of the gray carpet. The stains came out easy enough between the bleach and some scrubbing, thankfully, though the scrubbing took longer than it should have since he had to keep changing hands, the pain in the wrists approaching unbearable as he finished.

Leaning against the sink after he scrubbed the stink of bleach off of his skin, he tried to ignore the voices of his brother, his father, Bobby, Castiel and more shouting, hissing, whispering painful truths.

Next thing Sam knew, he was outside, feet bare in the mud as he locked the door to the camper and walking into the woods.

_YOU’RE NOT MY BROTHER, SAM. NOT ANYMORE._

_DAD SAID I WOULD HAVE TO EITHER SAVE YOU OR KILL YOU. WELL GUESS WHAT, I’M DONE TRYING TO SAVE YOU!_

_YOU LOSE MY NUMBER , BOY._

_I WISH YOU HAD NEVER GOTTEN OUT OF THAT CAGE!_

_MONSTER! VAMPIRE! DEMON!_

_GET THE HELL OUT OF OUR LIFE; CAS AND I DON’T NEED YOU._

Twigs and stones cut into the bottoms of Sam’s feet as he stumbled blindly down the hill behind his campsite and splashed into the creek. He tripped getting out on the other side, and found that movement had made him lose the energy to get back up.

Instead he ripped the bandages off of his wrists, tearing off some of the beginnings of scabs and throw them away from himself. He curled up into the fetal position, blood-oozing wrists curled against his chest. His head felt light and dizzy as the mild overdose kicked into gear in full, making his ears ring; it was a distant sound, though, and the voices were almost completely drowned out by the combination of ringing and the uptick in rainfall through the trees above and onto the stones and ground around him.

The rain was cool on his skin as it finished soaking his clothes and hair, plastering both to his skin and offering no warmth in the unpleasant weather. But he didn’t care. He didn’t care that he was shivering. He didn’t care that there was dirt and creek water and who knew what else in the cuts and abrasions on the bottom of his feet, or that one of the deeper wounds on his wrists was bleeding again.

He didn’t care if he died out here, dirty, soaked and bleeding. No one else cared, so why should he?

Unknown to him, a pair of eyes were watching him from the top of the hill behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T3 = Tylonol with Codine. it's a prescription pain medication. I at 145 pounds can only take ONE every 6-8 hours. So for Sam to take 4, on an empty stomach would be an overdose, if not a very strong one.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: self harm, self hatred, torture, verbal and physical abuse.

Sam’s mind finally returned him to consciousness as the sun, only partially visible through the dissipating storm clouds, was starting to sink behind the trees. His limbs ached, muscles cramping from shivering and being held rigidly in place for who knew how many hours.

His chest, however, was quite warm.

And wet.

And furry.

“What the hell…” Sam groaned, pushing himself upright against a large rock formation growing out of the hill a few inches behind him. He moved to wipe his crusty eyes, but stopped when he saw them crusted with dirt and blood. He settled for using the inside of his shirt.

The heat-radiating, wet, furry thing turned out what looked to be a 40 pound wiry-haired Golden Retriever mix, staring up at him with calm brown eyes. It wore no collar, its fur wasn’t even worn away as if it had been worn a collar anytime recently, and was rather on the thin side.

“Where on Earth did you come from, hmm?” Sam asked, though he knew he wouldn’t get an answer. Though, he did have to admit, at least to himself, it was nice to have a conversation with someone who wasn’t five words away from biting his head off – that is, as long as this wasn’t the wolf from Little Red Riding Hood. He did not want to face  _anything_  supernatural right now, and that included fairy tales. Or a shifter. But he doubted either of those creatures would have curled up and taken a nap with him. No, they would have just torn his throat or heart out.

The dog, of course, didn’t say anything. It just wagged its tail and used its nose to touch Sam’s hand. Sam moved to comply and pet the dog when he saw his wrist. None of the wounds on either wrist were bleeding anymore, but Sam did regret removing the bandages; mud was splattered all over the insides of both arms from the rain, some of it in wounds.

Crawling gingerly on his hands and knees over to the creek which had swelled in size since the rainfall and carefully lowered his wrists into the flowing water. It took time and some scrubbing, which he didn’t feel much of thanks to the numbing cold of the water, but most of the mud was relatively easy to remove, at least on his hands and wrists.

Downstream of Sam’s position the dog lapped up some of the water, and answered Sam’s question on whether it was a boy or girl. After getting a drink, the dog waited patiently for Sam to finish cleaning the grit from his hands and wrists, his gaze calm. Sam knew he shouldn’t invite the dog back with him, but he wasn’t going to leave the poor thing out in the weather, which was starting to mist again, despite the setting sun, and looked ready to turn back into a downpour, not to mention the rapidly dropping temperatures.

“C’mon, buddy. Let’s go dry off and warm up. Hope you don’t mind canned soup and jerky for dinner.”

The dog’s ears perked up at the word ‘dinner’, and followed him readily across the river and up the embankment to Sam’s campsite, tail aloft and wagging cheerfully.

Once in the clearing, Sam did a quick survey of the wards he had subtly hung around the edges of the clearing, but none of them seemed out of place or tampered with. The ones inside of the camper as well as the salt lines were intact as well. The dog paused at the doorway, sniffing the salt line across the door before gingerly stepping over it. Sam let out a soft sigh of relief; he hadn’t ever heard of a demon taking over the body of an animal, or if such a thing was even possible. But it was nice to know the dog seemed to be just that; a dog. The wards around the campsite as well as a few inside were also geared towards shifters, and none of them had gone off.

Just when he was thinking all of these charitable thoughts about his new companion, the dog decided it was high time to rid himself of the water clinging to his body, and shook himself, sending water and a few hairs flying in all directions.

“Hey!” Sam cried. “You couldn’t have done that outside?!”

The dog managed to look moderately sheepish, before looking at the growing puddle of water under the hunter’s bare feet and sneezing.

Sam snorted. “Shut up.”

The dog gave a short ruff of what could have almost been said to be agreement, or amusement.

Sam shook his head before carefully stripping out of his clothes, pants first, wiping his muddy feet off with the sopping wet denim before dropping it onto one of the benches by the table (wasn’t like he’d be sitting there anytime soon – it looked rather cramped for his long legs). Next to be removed was the plaid buttondown shirt, spotted with mud and blood; it joined the jeans on the bench.

The hunter, now in boxers and tank top dug out one of the musty but clean sheets he had found in one of the numerous boxes and paper shopping bags that had been in the back of the truck and began drying himself off with it, since he didn’t feel like going back out to the truck to search for towels.

The movements and ministrations opened up some of the wounds on his arms. Sam sighed, pulling a clean pair of jeans on before digging out the medical kit from under the sink, discarding the sheet on the floor. Most of them seemed to be clotted enough he shouldn’t need to give himself any stitches, not that he really cared to give himself them even if he should have needed to do so. While he set to bandaging the right wrist, which was worse off, the dog rolled around on the discarded sheet, affectively drying himself off.

_Left me to rot in Purgatory, you bastard! How could you do that to me?! I should have known better than to trust the monster pretending to be my brother! You –_

Sam clenched his hand around the recently bandaged wrist, fingers digging into the wounds now hidden under gauze and medical tape. The pain did little to silence the shouting inside his head.

_– you’re a monster, Sam! I should be hunting you! You’re no better than the things we hunt! You’ve shown over and over again that you cannot be trusted! You’re untrustable, unsavable! I should’ve killed you when –_

Sam had been just about to reach for the knife tucked inside of the kit when a cold nose nudged his knee. Brown eyes in a remarkably dry, furry face looked worriedly up at him. The dog rested his chin on Sam’s knee and sighed heavily, eyebrows twitching as he looked from Sam’s face to the medical kit and back again.

“You sure you’re a dog?” Sam asked.

The dog merely cocked his head, chin still on the hunter’s knee, ears perked.

Sam sighed shakily. “Sorry, boy. Should have warned you I’m pretty messed up. On the run, too. Well, not really. I highly doubt my brother is even looking for me.” Sam ran a hand over his face. “He hates me, and has every right to. Same with Cas – Castiel, I guess. He’s an angel, by the way. Turns out they’re real. To him I’m just the Boy with the Demon Blood – was. He’s dead, trapped in Purgatory.” Sam swallowed hard, pain blossoming in his chest. “He hated me, but he was always there to help Dean, and that’s what matters, in the end. He probably knew what I was, what I would do; he knew I was tainted. He could never l –” Sam cut off the word love; he couldn’t say it out loud. Could barely think it. His brother’s angel would have probably smited him on the spot if he had known the Boy with the Demon Blood had feelings for him.

Sierra’s words about him loving someone related to the color blue made sense; Castiel did have beautiful eyes. Too bad the empath didn’t know the love he felt for the angel were part of what was destroying him.

“It doesn’t matter, I guess. I hope Cas is able to find a way back; hell, if my brother, carrying the soul of a vampire inside of his arm can find his way back, surely Cas can find his way back. Dean’ll need a new hunting partner soon, someone to watch his back. Doesn’t hurt that angels can heal and teleport wherever they want. That’s far more helpful for Dean to have, instead of _someone_ he can’t trust, someone who continually lets him down. Someone worthless.”

Sam laughed humorlessly; why was he telling a dog all of this? And yet, it felt good to talk; someone who would listen, and didn’t hate him (yet), and didn’t want him dead. So he continued, “I started the damn Apocalypse, the damn end of the fricking world. Then I managed to drag Lucifer into hell. I should’ve stayed there. Probably end up back there again, soon.”

The dog grumbled; Sam chuckled in spite of himself. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

Sam heaved himself to his feet, having bandaged the other wrist while talking to the dog. Digging in one of the bags from the dollar store, Sam pulled out a large can of beef stew before pouring it into one of the dishes he had found in the camper and stuck it into the microwave.

“It’s all my fault,” Sam whispered, leaning against the counter, eyes staring unseeingly out of the window above the sink. “I’ve made such awful decisions. I’ve betrayed their trust, Dean’s, Castiel’s, Bobby… fuck, even that Archangel, Gabriel. He was a mean, cruel sonofabitch, but in the end, he meant well, even if he methods of doing so were cruel. He died, too… he died helping us – well, it was my fault, anyways – escape Lucifer. Again, because of me.”

A sob escaped Sam before he could stuff it down. “People around me keep dying, or getting hurt, because of me and my decisions. Dean’s died before, but at least he had Castiel to bring him back. But Bobby, Jo, Ellen, Castiel, Gabriel… so many more. If one monster was killing that many people, we would’ve hunted it down and destroyed it.”

The microwave dinged. Sam pulled out the bowl, burning himself in the process. Using a rag he poured the soup into a clean, cool bowl, adding some pieces of jerky to the mix before setting the concoction down on the ground in front of the dog. “Here you go, bud. Eat up. You need it.”

While the dog ate, Sam washed the cooling bowl and filled it with water for the hairy creature. After that was done he sat down on the bed with a sigh. He’d drive the beast down to the station tomorrow; perhaps Ava would take care of him. Sam didn’t know how much longer he could hold on before he broke. When he did, he didn’t intend for anyone to be able to find his body.

OoOoO

Sam crawled exhaustedly into the bed after letting the dog out to do his business. He didn’t even bother removing the clean jeans or tank top, just crawled between the sheets. The dog clamored up onto the bed and curled against the hunter’s knees, chin resting on the human’s ankles.

Sam fell into a nightmare-haunted sleep almost immediately.

He was stumbling through a forest devoid of green, bare feet bleeding from rocks and sticks. His tank top and jeans were mud-stained and torn. Behind him, he could here them getting closer.

“Sammy. Saaaammyy… Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

Sam tried to push himself to run faster.

“This is your own fault, Sammy. You should have looked for us; now, you’ve joined us.”

Sam ducked around a huge downed tree, half rotted into the mossy ground and leaned against the trunk, gasping as he tried to catch his breath and listen for his pursuers.

“Do you really think you can escape us, Sam?”

Sam swallowed back tears, his chest burning in anguish. He pushed himself off of the dead tree and stumbled onwards. Not a hundred feet forwards he tripped, sending himself sprawling, falling down a hill to land next to a shallow stream. Crawling on his hands and knees, Sam made his way through the stream and onto the other side.

The voices behind him had stopped; Sam looked around, worried and relieved in equal measures.

“Hello, _Sammy!_ ”

Sam spun around just as Dean, his clothes filthy and a crude blade in one hand leaned down and grabbed Sam’s throat with his free hand, dragging the younger Winchester to his feet.

“Hey, Cas! I found the traitorous bastard!”

Castiel showed up as Dean was stringing Sam up, hands bound over his head, the rope looped over a sturdy tree branch his enough Sam’s tattered feet could barely touch the ground; a dirty strip of cloth cut from his own tank top gagged him. The angel’s clothes were as dirty and tattered as Dean’s; his face was unshaven.

A punch to his stomach knocked the air from his lungs.

“Don’t break him too quickly, Dean.” Castiel admonished. “We want to be able to take our time with him.”

Dean made a face. “It’s not like you couldn’t heal him if we go too far.”

“True.” Castiel agreed as he came up next to Dean. “But I’d rather save my Grace for other, more important things.”

Dean smirked, and Sam felt like the angel was implying something he was missing. “Guess we’ll just have to take our time even more so than we were planning.”

Another punch sent Sam swinging. When he stopped moving, Castiel was standing in front of him, peering into his eyes intently.

“What are you hiding from me, Sam Winchester?” the angel murmured.

Sam closed his eyes, trying to not think of exactly what the angel was asking about.

A blade cut thinly into his stomach; the gag kept his muffled groan almost silent. He opened his eyes to see his brother grinning coldly up at him. “That got your attention, didn’t it, little brother.”

A second stroke of the blade, an inch higher, bit deeper into his flesh.

“Careful, Dean, don’t make him bleed too much.” Castiel chided as he used his own blade to make thin slices on Sam’s right thigh.

“Says the person getting very close to a main artery,” Dean scoffed, but stopped slicing regardless. Instead he looked up at Sam hatefully, pacing slowly around Sam. “What the hell was so important you couldn’t look for us, for me, your own brother, huh?! Not that it matters, anyways; even if you had figured out where we were, you would’ve failed to get us out, just like you fail at everything else. God knows why I let you stay around me topside.”

Sam could keep back the scream this time as Dean sliced Sam’s left Achilles tendon.

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… he tried to think to Castiel, who had nodded appreciatively at Dean’s actions.

“Sorry? You think saying sorry will fix all of your choices?” Castiel demanded, eyes burning with hatred and disgust. “Your actions reflect the demon blood staining your soul. You are not worthy of Dean’s forgiveness, let alone mine, so don’t ask for it!! You’re a monster – a creature to be hunted and destroyed.”

The ‘not worthy’ words triggered the memory Sam had been attempting to keep hidden from Castiel. The angel looked briefly surprised before looking disgusted. “Love?! How could you ever hope to have my _love_? You are the lowest of the low, the most disgusting _thing_ I have ever had the misfortune to come into contact with. And when compared to Dean, the Righteous Man, who would ever want a creature like yourself? You are beyond foolish!”

“What, does my little brother have a thing for you, love?” Dean asked, wrapping his free arm around the angel’s waist.

“It would seem like IT does,” the angel agreed, allowing Dean to push him into the tree and kiss him, bodies pressed together.

Sam felt tears leaking out of his eyes. He knew it was true, all of it; it was why he hadn’t wanted Castiel to know how he felt.

A blade, long and narrow, bit deep into Sam’s chest; Sam screamed behind the gag. Below, Dean was looking intently at the blood now leaking steadily onto his hand, withdrawing the blade from Sam’s now collapsing lung slowly. Then he looked up into Sam’s eyes. “You’re a monster, Sam, as I’ve told you before. How you thought an angel could love you I will never understand.”

I didn’t, Sam thought sadly. You’re right, both of you.

“Yes, Sam, we’re right.”

Castiel was now behind him, carving into his back with another blade. “You deserve your fate, to be forever tortured and raped and carved apart in hell, over and over and over again; you know they won’t ever let you escape.”

Castiel stepped around to join Dean, eyeing the blood running from the various wounds they had inflicted as well as from his mouth, the gag already soaked. “What do you think, love? Shall we finish it off, or leave it the way it is?”

Dean smirked. “Let’s leave it. Something’ll be along sooner or later, if it lasts that long.”

Castiel nodded in agreement. “I’m sure something is already on the way, tracking the scent of its blood.”

“This is true; it’ll get torn to bits.” Dean pulled the angel into a heated kiss. “Come, I have some sinfully things I want to do to you.”

And that was it; they left him without another glance. Sorrow was building in his chest; not at the fact Castiel and his brother were in love, he had expected it, and even though it hurt he was happy for them. They both needed someone they could count on in their lives. God knew he didn’t fit that description.

What hurt was that they were right. He was a monster, a creature. He was a failure. He could not be trusted or counted upon to do anything good or helpful. A disappointment. Worthless. Useless.

Better off dead.

_Dean, Cas… I’m so sorry I failed you both…_

OoOoO

Crowley was looking expectantly from one human to the other, waiting for an answer. Dean and Garth were glaring at each other, and Jody was looking quite exasperated with the pair of them. Even the dog was giving Dean a rather un-doglike accusing look. After a minute the King of Hell sighed theatrically and turned to the angel. “Tree topper, can you either explain the situation to me or knock some sense into Dean so _he_  can explain?”

“I do not understand the tree topper reference,” Castiel replied blandly. “As for the situation, I do not fully know it myself, beyond a cursed object forced Dean and Sam into a disagreement.”

“It wasn’t a disagreement!” Garth spat, glaring angrily at the elder Winchester. “He said a crap-ton of hurtful things to Sam, and Sam ran off leaving behind a message –”

“Hey, they might have hurt his poor feelings, but the truth hurts!” Dean snapped right back. “It’s not my fault if Sam is all girly and – ”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Crowley interrupted. “You handled a cursed object which, what, makes you speak the truth?”

“More like it makes you say the things you’ve been wanting to say to someone but have been holding back.” Garth replied when Dean didn’t answer. “Dean accused Sam of not looking for him while he was in Purgatory, of not being his brother, not being trustworthy, that Sam had betrayed hi and several other such accusations. Also said to me he didn’t want to look for him.”

“Well, well, Squirrel. You really did it this time.”

“Shut up, Crowley,” Dean grumbled. “Not my fault –”

“Oh, so it’s Sam’s fault?” demanded Jody.

Dean reddened. “I didn’t mean – ”

“Yes, you did, Dean.” Garth said. “You said it yourself. Sam keeps running away from his problems, never stays to face and deal with them.”

“Well look at everything he’s done!” Dean retorted hotly. “Ruby, the Apocalypse, Lucifer, Purgatory, and everything else in between!”

“Dean,” Castiel said, “Yes, I agree his choices regarding Ruby were not good. But in hindsight, he was trying to save you by using his psychic abilities gained from the demon blood to find Lilith to save you. When he killed Lilith, he thought he was _preventing_  the start of the Apocalypse, not starting it.”

“Yeah, well that still leaves everything else.” Dean ground out. “He keeps making poor choices, especially when I’m not around to keep his ass in line. That’s why we need to find him.”

“So you can keep verbally and emotionally abusing him?!” Jody snarled; even Crowley looked impressed with her vehemence; it also helped that Jody had pointed her gun at the older hunter as she was speaking. “I don’t think so.”

Dean opened his mouth to snarl a retort when Castiel stumbled, catching himself on a nearby tree.

“Cas, what’s wrong?” Dean asked, alarmed.

_Dean, Cas… I’m so sorry I failed you both…_

Castiel looked up at Dean. “It’s Sam...”

“What about Sam?” Dean demanded.

“I think…” the angel paused, trying to push himself upright. “I think he’s dying.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured since Castiel could smite in Purgatory, he could probably use his Grace in other ways. If not... *shrugs* creative liscense and it's a nightmare. Deal with it :P


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: depession, suicidal thoughts, self-harm, references to non-con/rape.
> 
> So sorry it took so long!!

Sam, shirtless, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets, woke up from his nightmares to a cold, wet nose shoving itself urgently into his hand. “What do you want, dog?” he demanded hoarsely, eyes scrunched shut. It was daylight outside, at least somewhat.

The dog climbed over to stand next to him, and suddenly started licking his ear.

“Argh!” Sam sat bolt upright with a startled oath. “Ok, ok, I’m up! What the hell do you want?”

The dog, with a rather impressive bedhead, wagged his tail, seemingly unperturbed at Sam’s anger and a very unrepentant look on his furry face as Sam wiped his ear clean.

Sam sighed as he climbed out of the bed, avoiding the dog as he jumped down after him; he had woken from yet another nightmare. He had been strapped stomach-down on the rack in the Cage, arms and legs being pulled painfully tight; it was a wonder one or both of his shoulders hadn’t popped out of joint. Open, bleeding wounds from whip wounds stung and burned from his shoulders, down his back to his bare buttocks. And Lucifer… he’d been on top of him and –

The dog barked urgently, breaking him once again from his memory-dreams; God knew it was a replay from different snippets of his time in Hell in the Cage; he didn’t need his mind to make up their own hellish visions when he had what amounted to almost two centuries’ worth of memories from the Cage.

Sam slipped his pants and shoes on and pulled on a button up shirt he didn’t bother to button up before shuffling over to the door. “Alright, alright, c’mon already.”

While the dog took care of his business in the woods, Sam made a circle of the campsite, checking on the wards and charms, all of which we still in place, despite the storm the night before. He then fetched the small tarp out of the truck, maneuvering it over the top of the camper, wanting to prevent any more leakage inside, especially with dark clouds floating in overhead.

It didn’t take long to fasten the tarp down with rope and stakes, the dog watching patiently from in front of the camper’s door, waiting for him to finish, brown eyes serious. The clouds were just beginning to let loose their burden when Sam and the dog went back inside.

Plink.

Plink.

Plink plink.

“What the hell –” Sam started to say; he was sure he had covered the entirety of the roof of the camper…

Lucifer was seated at the tiny kitchenette table, playing with a cup of water and an eyedropper. “Hello, bunkmate.”

OoOoO

“I think…” the angel paused, trying to push himself upright. “I think he’s dying.”

Everyone stared at him, jaws slack, all in varying degrees of horror, even Crowley.

“What the hell do you mean, he’s dying?!” Dean found his voice first, Jody echoing his demand a beat behind him.

“He’s… for lack of a better term, fading away.” Castiel replied, voice shaking. “He’s giving up.”

“Could you tell where he is?” Garth asked hurriedly before Dean could explode.

“A general area, yes. He’s somewhere in southern Wisconsin, but not in a city or town.”

“So probably a wayside, or motel in the middle of nowhere.” Garth nodded. “Shouldn’t be too many of those to have to check out. I’ll go get a list of possibilities written up.” He glanced at Dean. “We’ll find him, Dean. We went from just about all of North America to a certain portion of one single state.”

Dean was still staring at the angel, who still hadn’t moved. “How much time do we have?”

“I don’t know, Dean. Days, weeks. It all depends on Sam.”

Dean ran his hands through his hair. “Can you contact him, seeing as you heard his prayer?”

“No,” Castiel replied. “If I had had more time, if his prayer had been longer, possibly. If he does again, because I know his general location, I might be able to latch onto him better and go to him. But unless he prays to me directly, I won’t hear him.”

“What, Sam’s prayers not important enough for you to pay attention to?” Dean sneered, stepping angrily in the angel’s direction only to have Garth step in front of him; Jody twitched like she wanted to join him, but kept her weapon aimed at Crowley. “The mighty Castiel, Angel of the Lord, has no time for a lowly, demon blood-tainted _human_.”

Riot’s snarl preceded Garth being flung backwards by an invisible force; next thing Dean knew, he was pinned against his Baby by Castiel, the angel’s forearm applying enough force to his throat he could barely breathe. The angel’s eyes were glowing a bright, brilliant blue as his Grace surged, just barely contained within the vessel. The ground rumbled and shift subtly beneath their feet, catching Jody by surprise; Crowley caught her elbow to keep her from falling over.

“Do not, _do not_  think, for an instant, I do not dearly wish I could fly to your brother and convince him that he is loved,” Castiel snarled, his face mere inches from Dean’s own, “something he has been sorely lacking his entire life, despite your attempts at brotherly affection while you both grew up. That love you had back then for him has been in very short supply for a long time, and he knows it. That is why he hasn’t told you he’s still having nightly nightmares of his torturous time in the Cage to the point he hardly gets any sleep at night; I also believe he hears him sometimes, whether it is Lucifer, or his own memories torturing him, I do not know. As for hearing his prayers, unless someone prays to a specific angel, all it sounds like to us is what you hear in a crowded room; snippets, a word here or there. Do not doubt me, or my desire to help Sam!”

Dean’s eyes widened. “He’s still hearing that bastard? How the hell is he doing that?”

“I highly doubt dear Luci is able to get through to Sam from his current location.” Crowley said, joining the conversation. “Very unlikely, but not out of the realm of possibilities. It is Lucifer, not to mention Michael is also now trapped in there with him.”

Castiel didn’t move from his staredown with Dean, but nodded in acknowledgement of the demon’s statement. “I figured as much. Though, given the option that leaves, I would almost prefer it being Lucifer.” Reluctantly, he released Dean.

“What does that leave, then, if it’s not the real Lucifer?” Jody asked.

“I fear it is my fault,” Castiel said softly, the raging blue glow fading completely from his eyes.

“This all has to do with the wall in his mind you tore down, doesn’t it?!” Dean snarled, fists clenched at his sides. “You did this to him?!”

“He was already having nightmares before my unforgivable transgression of destroying the wall Death placed in his mind,” Castiel replied, glaring at the elder Winchester. “I had been doing my best to shield him from those before I… betrayed him, betrayed you. My betrayal made that situation worse. But the current situation is because of the cursed penny, and the held back truths it had you say.”

“Can we please, please stop arguing about whose fault it is for now and focus on finding Sam?” Jody demanded before Dean had a chance to retort.

“Agreed, as entertaining as you all are, I do believe feather duster is correct, and we do not have a lot of time in which to find the Moose before he offs himself.” Crowley stated. “I have a few Crossroads demons in my debt in southern Wisconsin. I’ll go ask them if they’ve seen our tall friend. Ta.” And he was gone.

OoOoO

Between Garth and Riot, the former frog-marching, the other non-too-playfully nipping at the hunter’s heels, they got Dean into Jody’s house to start researching locations that matched Castiel’s description.

“You ok there?” Jody asked Castiel, watching him wearily lean against Dean’s car.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “I don’t… I think… before, before I got corrupted, before I attacked Sam… I…” he didn’t know how to put it into words. “I cared about both of them. Dean was my charge, it was my job to help and protect him. Along with him came Sam, much to my displeasure. But over time… I got to know both of them. They’re good people. They’ve both made bad choices, but each and every one can be traced back to wanting to help the other, to do the right thing.”

Jody smiled. “That sounds like them,” she murmured. “There’s nothing wrong with you caring about them, not from a human standpoint, anyways. Guys can care and love each other without it being other than platonic.”

Castiel nodded slowly, though his face remained troubled. “And what would happen… if that love was something other than platonic?”

“Then the love isn’t platonic. Love can take many forms, Castiel. Men can love women, men, both, neither… same for women, such as the lesbian couple who saved Sam, and myself, from the swarm of demons yesterday morning.” She cocked her head at the angel, leaning against the car next to him. “Can angels fall in love with humans?”

Castiel had been about to deny it, but caught the knowing look on her face; there was also acceptance. No anger, no hostility, no disgust. “Yes, they can though it is very rare,” he whispered hoarsely, the words tumbling out before he could rein them in. “I didn’t realize it at first. I care about Dean, and he is a good friend. But Sam… he is such a gentle soul, a good soul who never deserved the burden and curse Heaven and Hell placed on him. The hatred of my own kind… of me. I felt for awhile before I… betrayed him… that he had feelings for me. But before I could decide how to act upon them, and my own, I…” he paused, the still heavy feelings of guilt and self-hatred threatening to crash over him. “I hurt him, I broke Sam beyond repair. How he feels now, yes is in part Dean’s fault… but if I had made a different decision, if I had stood by them, then Sam would still be here, would know Dean still loves and cares about him. And I… I could tell him.”

“We will find him, Castiel,” she said firmly. “We will save him, and you can tell him how you feel.” The resoluteness faded from her body and voice. “I should also apologize to you, and Dean. If I had known just how bad he was, I never would have allowed him to leave here.”

OoOoO

Dean was muttering about good-for-nothing, flea-bitten, ugly, hairy mongrels who bit holes in perfectly good pants as he poured over a map of Wisconsin, looking for the markers for rest areas while Garth was searching for parks and hotels remote and private enough to match Castiel’s description. Said dog, seated next to Garth, was watching Dean with what almost looked like suspicion, as if he was waiting for the human to take off, and he was ready to chase him down, add more holes to the jeans and drag the human back.

Castiel and Jody were just joining them while Garth and Dean were mapping out the hotels he had found online onto the detailed paper map.

“Anything promising, boys?” Jody asked as she dumped out old coffee grounds and prepared a new batch.

“Not very many rest areas, but there are a moderate number of hotel/motels which could be possibilities.” Dean said, grabbing a mug and waiting impatiently for the coffee to brew. “Haven’t even started on the parks. Wisconsin sure has a lot of them, even in the southern end. northern end and the Upper Peninsula have a hell of a lot more. Let’s hope he doesn’t head up that way.”

“I figured Dean can start calling the hotels,” Garth said as he grabbed his own cup of coffee and dumping an absurd amount of sugar into it. “say he’s looking for someone of Sam’s description.” He looked at Castiel. “Could you check out the rest areas, if I give you a list of their locations?”

The angel nodded.

“I can start calling parks with offices,” Jody offered. “The more places we can cut out, or alert to be on the lookout for Sam, the closer we are to finding him.”

OoOoO

Sam was frozen, eyes fixed on Lucifer, who leered up at him from his seat. “It’s been awhile, Sammy dearest. I trust your memories of our fond time in the Cage have been tiding you over until I found a way to reach you from the Cage?”

Sam flinched; the memories were becoming unbearable, especially after Castiel broke the wall Death had erected to keep the memories at bay. It was becoming all he could do to not let them overwhelm him as it was. If more, new ones were added…

Lucifer must have caught what he was thinking, because he smirked. “My my, I must have a word with dear Castiel about his manners, though his actions are very much appreciated.” He ran his eyes up and down Sam’s body. “I’d hate to think all the effort I put into your stay with me would go unremembered.”

Sam backed away until his knees hit the bed before he slid down to the floor, his whole body shaking. “No,” he whispered, “no, no, no. You’re not here, you’re not real…”

Fingers ran themselves through his hair before grabbing a fistful. “Ahh, Sammy… I’m afraid I’m very much real.” The hand was removed.

Tears of fear threatened to spill from his eyes as Sam made a fist and started hitting his other forearm repeatedly; there were no blades or knives handy. He had to make the nightmare go away.

A chuckle echoed softly above his head. “That may work for a little while, Sammy, but I will be back. And then we shall reenact some of my favorite memories from the cage, and maybe make some new ones… I have thought up some new ways to make some use of you, especially that lovely –”

With a cry, Sam rammed his head into the faux wood cabinet next to him, once, twice, three times before he blacked out. The last sound he heard was the dog barking frantically, and what almost sounded like…

…like wings.

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE: This is a filler chapter, and has nothing to do with the plot (though it is part of the current timeline), so you don't need to read it. As before briefly mentioned, Amelia used Riot as a blood donor. Last week at work, we did a canine blood transfusion, and it was facinating (though the recipient dog is still not doing well), and I wanted to use what I had learned from that experience with Riot and Amelia, with Castiel helping.
> 
> No trigger warnings, but there is mild description of animal abuse aftermath.

They were all mapping out plans for the following morning over beer or coffee and pie - Dean had wanted to leave right then and there, but both Garth and Jody had threatened bodily harm if he tried - when Garth's phone rang.

 Hello?"

 "Garth?" Amelia asked hurriedly; Garth put the phone on speaker. "Please tell me Riot and your angel friend are still there."

 "Riot is, but Cas is checking out a couple of leads on Sam." Dean replied before Garth could speak. "Why? Is it about Sam?"

 "Damn it!" she swore; there was barking in the background, and something metal smashed to the floor. "No, it's not Sam. I have another wounded dog who's in desperate need of a blood transfusion. I don't think she'll have good odds at making it without one."

 "Cas? Cas, we need you." Dean shouted.

 At the same time, Garth asked, "Does the blood have to be from Riot? Can't a different dog donate? Wait, Cas is here."

 Castiel looked at Dean. "I have been unable to locate Sam so far. Have you found anything of use?"

"No hits on anything yet." Dean told him before waving a hand towards Garth and his phone. "Sam's vet lady needs the hairy beast's blood. Can you zap him down there?"

Riot trotted over to the angel and barked once impatiently.

Castiel, still looking confused, placed a hand on top of Riot's head; a moment later they were both in the darkened waiting room of Amelia's clinic. Riot took off, trotting through one of the open exam room doors and into the back of the clinic. Curious, Castiel followed.

Lights were on over the large island in the middle of the large rear room, which had several other rooms branching off of it; Amelia was currently in one with several machines and a table in the center. As Castiel approached, he could see a short-haired dog about the same size as Riot on the table a tube down it's throat and a hose connecting it to one of the machines. Amelia, her scrubs marred with spots and lines of blood, along with her arms was wearing blood-covered gloves was currently reaching into the dog's abdomen. A tray on wheels was within easy reach, metal instruments also covered with blood.

"What happened?" Castiel asked; the poor creature looked horrible.

Amelia snorted without humor, using her arm to wipe away sweat from her cheek. "Easier to say what  _didn't_ happen to her. She's an Staffordshire Terrier; one of the common fighting dogs, because they look like Pit Bulls. By my best guess, she was used as a bait dog after she stopped producing a decent amount of pups, and after that, hit with a blunt object, probably a baseball bat, and then dragged by a car or ATV," she nodded towards the blackened, raw, bleeding sores on the dog's side and back, "those are road rash wounds. I'm currently finishing up suturing a tear on her spleen. Then I'll check for any more bleeders."

"Oh thank God, Riot's here." A new voice commented.

Castiel turned to see a brown-haired woman toss her purse onto the floor and greet Riot before entering the surgery room. "You good in here, Doc? I'll sedate Riot and get the transfusion going."

Riot barked at Castiel; the angel looked from one woman to the other. "There will be no need to sedate him; he says despite his dislike for needles, he will hold still for you to get the blood to save her."

The new woman turned to Amelia and raised an eyebrow.

"Janet, this is Castiel, a friend of Sam's. He's... he's an angel."

To Castiel's surprise, the woman nodded once before yanking drawers open and pulling out packets of needles, large syringes, clear hosing, and a bag. Then she looked at Castiel. "Alright then, Castiel. You're with me. We need him up on the rack over the sink, and laying on his side."

Still surprised at her lack of astonishment after Amelia had introduced him, Castiel followed her instructions of lifting Riot up onto the black rubber-coated rack over a very large sink, but from there the dog did the rest, rolling on his side with a deep sigh and a minor grumble about his dislike of needles.

As Janet, as the woman introduced herself as wheeled over a tall pole on wheels with a dual hook at the top, Castiel asked slowly, "You are unsurprised at my being an angel. That or you simply do not believe. Which is it?"

Janet, clipping a spot on Riot's throat bare, didn't look up as she answered, "My father and brother are Hunters; I know about the things that go bump in the night. If there are such things as vampires, ghosts, ghouls and every other creep, why not angels, too? I could tell something was bothering the boss when I got here, beyond getting the call from the cops about our newest patient. When I asked what was wrong, she told me I'd never guess. So I asked if she had learned there was more to this world than meets the normal eye; then she told me everything. About Sam, his brother, you... all of it."

Castiel nodded, accepting her statement as he watched her attach one end of the two foot long tubing to the large syringe; the other end was then attached to a large needle. 

"Be brave, Riot. I'll do this as quickly as I can." she told him as she wiped the shaved spot with alcohol, and then slipped the needle into his skin. She held it there with one hand;  and used the other to draw back on the plunger of the syringe; blood flowed through the tubing and into the barrel of the syringe. She briefly set down the syringe to tape the needle in Riot's neck in place. Once the syringe was full, she detached it from the tube and handed it to Castiel. "Get another needle on there, and then stick the needle into that - " she pointed to a raised part on the bag " - and press the plunger in until all of the blood is in there and then remove the needle and hand the empty syringe back to me so I can fill it back up." She attached the second syringe to the tubing and slowly started to repeat the process.

As he followed her instructions, Castiel asked, "Why did Amelia need Riot's blood?"

"After losing a dog who went into organ failure and started bleeding internally from a mere tick-borne disease, she wanted to be able to do blood transfusions. She tested all of the large dogs us employees have. Lucky for us, Riot is DEA-, which means he is a universal doner, as long as we're careful." Seeing his confusion - he really wasn't enjoying being confused, but, given who's company he kept a lot recently, it was a feeling he was getting used to - and explaned, "You do know people have different blood types, right?" he nodded. She continued, "Dogs most commonly have either DEA+ or DEA-; positives can be given either positive or negative with no issue; but negatives, if given more than one tranfusion of positive, will start developing antibodies to destroy what the body sees as invaders, and can start attacking their own blood as well, and that's deadly."

"So... what does that have to do with Riot?"

Janet handed him another syringe full of blood. "Riot is DEA-, so he can give to a dog with either DEA+ or DEA-, and they won't get sick or die."

Castiel nodded; finally something that made sense. He took the time while Janet drew up another syringe of blood to glance into the surgery suite. Amelia seemed to be closing the skin where she had earlier been reaching into the dog's abdomen. Across from them was a rolling triple cage; a smaller version of the dog Amelia was working on was resting in the single lower unit, a line connected the dog's leg to a bag of clear fluids hanging from the door of the empty cage above it. The dog had several sutured lacerations decorating its body, and a cast on the right back leg. The other small cage was occupied by a one-eyed calico cat, a large portion of her body hairless and glistening with ointment; the wounds looked suspiciously like burns; the cat eyed the entire proceedings with a narrowed eye.

 OoOoO

It took time to fill up the bag with Riot's blood, and he held still through it all. Finally, when they were done and he could sit up, Riot gave the woman's face a through kissing. Castiel, hands rocking the now full back of blood back and forth at Janet's instructions, the angel went back in and watched Amelia suturing a laceration on the side of the dog's neck, running down to her shoulder. It eerily reminded the angel of Dean and Sam stitching themselves up; he had sometimes healed them.That brought up a new thought.

Could he? He had never tried... never had a reason to try.

He reached for the laceration but his hand was waved away by Amelia. "Sterile area, Castiel. Don't touch it."

Changing directions, Castiel reached for one of the road rashes not covered by the blue cloths around the wound Amelia was currently attending to. Heal, he thought.

Nothing happened.

Father, this is one of your creatures, harmed by your favorite creation; man, for their _e_ _ntertainment!_  he thought angrily. The least you could do is allow me to be of some assistance and allow me to heal them! What does it matter if who I heal is human or creature? They're all yours, and under my protection!

The second time Castiel placed a hand over the wound, it healed. Not perfectly, no fur sprouted to hide the wound, but it was healed.

"What the... how the Hell did you do that?!" Amelia demanded.

"What happened?" asked Janet, her and Riot joining them in the room.

"I healed a wound," Castiel said. "I... didn't think it would work. I've healed humans before, but never a creature. It did not even work the first time."

Amelia glared at him. "Can you heal the rest of her? Why didn't you do it before?!" 

 Castiel blinked. "I didn't think it would work," he repeated. "But I am grateful it did." He placed a hand on her head, sending his Grace through the dog. There were small internal burst blood vessels, cracked ribs, one broken rib, a crack in the hip, internal and external bruising, all of which was simple to heal. But something...

"Something is wrong with her heart," he told the women. "It's clogged by serveral things several inches long apiece."

Though his eyes remained closed, he could tell Amelia was frowning. "Heartworms. They'll clog her heart and she'll die. We cold treat her for it, but the treatment can be dangerous, given her current condition it could be fatal - "

"They're gone, as are the ones within her blood." Castiel interrupted, finally opening his eyes. "I have healed everything I can inside, and the remaining skin wounds. She will still need the blood transfusion from Riot." He ran a hand over her head; he knew she couldn't feel his touch through her sedation, but given her wounds, including all of the poorly healed old ones he had felt but hadn't mentioned to the human women, he doubted the poor creature had known much love.

"What do the human laws do to people who do this to humans?" he asked.

"They get arrested and go to prison; sometimes they're put to death. Why?" Amelia asked, attempting to wash the blood off of her skin at the sink in the surgery suite.

"And what about when they do this to animals?"

"Not nearly enough," Janet muttered darkly.

At the same time, Amelia answered, "Fines, a mark on their records, couple of years in jail. Why are you asking?"

Someone was yelling his name; Dean. He looked at Amelia. "I have to go, Dean is calling for me. But I promise you, once we find Sam, I will come back. We will find the humans who did this to her, and their punishment will be equal to the pain they have caused to her, to the other dog you have, and all of the others they have ever harmed."

Before either woman could reply, he was gone. Riot grumbled, but knew his new friend would return for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DEA = Dog Erythrocyte Antigen.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, I'm back!!!!

Sam woke up with the Devil’s laughter ringing in his ears. Attempting to block it out, he sat up, blinking sleep from his eyes; the headache didn’t help matters.

Oh, yeah. He’d knocked himself out last night.

Between his head and the nightmares attempting to replay themselves graphically behind his eyelids, it took far longer than it really should have for him to realize that he was not sitting on the floor, but on the bed, covered by the sheets and blankets.

His eyes snapped open, heart racing with that realization – and the fact that something was currently moving around at the foot of the bed. The knife he had tucked under the pillow when he first arrived at the campground was in his clenched fist in an instant, its sharp tip between him and the creature…

… the dog was sitting himself upright, merely yawned at Sam before flopping back onto his belly and crawling up next to Sam, sniffing the blade with interest.

Sam jerked the knife back when the beast went to lick the blade. “Curiosity didn’t just kill the cat, y’know, Fluffy,” he informed the dog.

The dog merely laid his head down onto Sam’s thigh and looked up at him sadly.

“Aww, look, something thinks they care about you, Sammy!” The Devil crooned, perched on the small kitchenette table, his face a mockery of a normal person confronted with a basket of kittens or puppies.

Sam ignored him, petting the dog with a shaking hand; the dog, however, was glaring in the Devil’s direction.

“Couldn’t find some human to give a shit about you, so again you turn to a beast outside of your own species?” Lucifer’s face melted into a smirk, which was far more normal. “Didn’t you learn anything from Ruby?”

Sam’s free hand clenched into a fist, but he continued petting the dog. He wished he could hope that if he ignored the hallucination of the Devil, that it would go away… if it even was a hallucination.

Lucifer leaned forwards, elbows on his knees. “Well, I guess it makes sense, when you think about it. The only human who could stand being near you – or so you thought, Sammy – just recently told you exactly how he felt about you, his so-called brother, who _couldn’t even look for me when I was in Purgatory!!_ ” the last bit was growled out in full-on angry, cursed penny-possessed Dean mode.

Sam couldn’t help it; he flinched. He gave up on ignoring Hallucifer and glared at the fallen angel still perched, still smirking, on the kitchenette table.

“Why are you doing this?” Sam demanded. “Why?”

The Devil threw his arms wide, shrugging his shoulders. “Why else? Michael’s boring as he always has been. You’re entertaining. I miss you. And… oh yeah. You betrayed me, and pissed me off!!”

Sam snorted in spite of himself. “And you really didn’t see that coming? You knew I would say yes. You knew how much D- how much my brother means to me.””

“Even if you don’t matter to him anymore?”

“Yes.” Sam replied without hesitation. “I messed up, far too much for him to forgive me… he’s right not to. That doesn’t change how I feel. That doesn’t change the fact that I love my brother, that I would do anything for him.”

The Devil’s smirk widened. “Do you think he’s happier without you in his life, dragging him down, having to be constantly monitored and kept out of trouble?”

“Why do you think I’m here now?” Sam demanded. “Why do you think I left him?”

Lucifer slid to his feet. “Ah, but have you truly left him?”

Sam threw his hands up, startling the dog. “What the hell do you think I’m doing here, waiting for him?! I left no trace when we parted ways down south. Angels, even if they would help him find me, can’t thanks to – ”

“Yes, yes,” Lucifer waved his hand dismissively. “Castiel’s bone tattoos. Very impressive, for a lowly seraphim. Causes trouble for even me.”

“Then how are you here?”

“What makes you think I’m even here?” Lucifer asked, raising a single brow.

Sam hesitated; the Devil laughed. “You should see your face!” he continued laughing, leaning against the table to support himself. “Does it really matter one way or the other if I am really here or not? What I say regardless is true! Dean, dear, sweet, oath-keeping big brother Dean, who can’t stand the sight of his dirty, infested traitorous little brother Sammy. Do you really think he’ll just let you go? He hates you, dearest Bunkmate. I’m surprised he didn’t end you back in that hotel room a few days ago. I’m surprised it has taken him this long, actually. Guess that promise he made all those years ago is still keeping him leashed. But for how long, hmm? How long before Dean tracks you down and puts a silver bullet in your brain, or guts you with the demon blade like the creature you are?”

Sam dropped his gaze to the floor; it was true, no matter how much it hurt to hear, though it wasn’t like it was anything new. He had been telling himself that for weeks before the incident with the penny.

“Oh, and then, once the deed is done…” Lucifer leaned against the counter across from the table. “oh, the guilt. It’ll eat him alive, once the righteous rage has leeched itself out of the Righteous Man, what then?”

On the bed next to Sam, the dog growled.

Lucifer ignored it. “What then, Sammy? What do you think will kill Dean first? A hunt gone wrong? His liver giving out from too much attempts at drinking away his pain? A random accident? Or…” The Devil trailed off for a moment before miming shooting himself in the head. “Will he off himself? What do you think Sammy? Hmm? What will dear big brother do?”

Sam knew he had a point, again. Whether Dean still truly cared about Sam or not. If he did indeed hunt him down and kill him, the guilt Dean would feel afterwards…

“It won’t get that far,” Sam said firmly. “I won’t let that happen.”

Lucifer rubbed his hands together excitedly. “Ohh, a plan! I love your plans, they never go the way you think. But, yes. Carry on, my wayward meatsuit.”

Reverting back to ignoring the Devil, Sam got to his feet, ignoring the line of dried blood on the wood cabinet; he remembered that, just not how he had gotten into the bed.

The Devil wolfwhistled when Sam stripped out of his still sweaty shirt; there were teeth holes around the back of the neck hole, and down one side to the sleeve. He looked over the dog, who looked mildly guilty, though the tail still wagged.

Sam shook his head. “You’re too good of a dog. I’ll take you down to the station. I’m sure Ava will take good care of you.”

The dog whined, pawing at Sam’s hand when he reached for the previously discarded knife. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine with her. If she can’t keep you, I’m sure she knows of someone who will be great for you to terrorize.”

When Sam turned around, the Devil had vanished.

With a soft sigh of relief, Sam dug out a backpack, and started haphazardly shoving things into it; the knife, some rope, a gun, another knife…

Sam was right. Ava crooned over the dog, who wagged his tail when he greeted her, but refused to take his eyes off of Sam.

“He just wandered into your campground?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. No one nearby was missing the poor guy, and he seems too thin to have just recently gotten lost from his family. He asks to go outside, and seems very well behaved.”

“Well, not to worry. My cat Arnold doesn’t mind dogs. I’ve actually been thinking about adopting a dog from the shelter.” She knelt down next to the dog. “As long as you, mister, behave yourself around mister Arnold, I think this might be a match made in Heaven.”  

Sam glanced back only once into the rearview mirror as he drove away. The dog was barking, straining at the end of the spare slipleash Ava found in her car, trying to chase after Sam.

“Well, is it time?”

Sam didn’t even jump when Lucifer spoke up from the passenger seat.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “It is.”  

OoOoO

“What is it, Dean?” Castiel asked without preamble, appearing in their midst in the kitchen.

“We have a couple of possibilities,” Garth said, still crouched over the map, which now held several pushpins, a spiral notebook with a list next to it. “A gas station slash convenience store in Baraboo, a ten-room hotel and a gas station in Stoughton, and a state park with campsites outside of Baraboo are the most promising, but –”

“We need you to get us over there pronto,” Dean interrupted, already shouldering his jacket. “We need to start looking. Can you zap all of us, Baby, and Jody’s car over there?”

Castiel nodded. “Of course.” He glanced at Jody and Garth, both of whom were looking at him expectantly, the latter holding the notebook and now pinless map.

In the blink of an eye, Castiel transported them to a blessedly vacant stretch of road outside of Edgerton, Wisconsin.

Garth immediately opened the map on the hood of Jody’s car and consulted the list. “Dean, Stoughton is a short drive from here. The front desk clerk said he hadn’t seen the man matching Sam’s description leave his room yet, so we should head there.’’ He looked over at Jody and Castiel. “If you two don’t mind splitting up the Baraboo sightings?” He handed them both a list of places.

Dean was already shoving Garth towards Baby. “C’mon, we’re burning daylight here!” he ignored the shorter hunter’s comment that it was only six in the morning, turning instead to the angel and cop, “You get anything, you call us, got it?”

Jody shook her head as she watched the elder Winchester drive off. “If he doesn’t slow down, a car crash or speed-watching cop are really going to slow down his day,” she muttered to herself. Then she turned to Castiel. “Care to give me a lift to Baraboo?”

Castiel dropped Jody off at the first place on her list, the convience store. Standing in the parking lot next to her car as she went inside to talk to the clerk, he read down the locations on his list. One near the bottom caught his eye.

Devil’s Lake State Park and Campground.

Would Sam be that ironic?

Before he could summon an answer, Castiel felt something cold gripping his heart; he was closer to Sam now. He could feel the human falling further.

In a flutter of wings, he was gone.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't hate me! I know it took me waaaay too long to do this, and it's short. I wanted to have SOMETHING to post... I might go back and edit/add, will add a note here if I do!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING! self harm, cutting, suicide, self-worth issues

In the back of his mind, Castiel noted the lake to his right, walls of car-sized rocks rising up on both sides. Human adults were scattered on the beach, half-watching their children playing and screeching in the water of the lake.

The front of his mind, however, registered the very large amount of Grace in the woods of the far side. It was far too much to be most of the angels he knew were still here on Earth. Fear threatened to claw it's way up his spine; what if Michael had made it out of the Cage, and was hunting Sam? Worse, what if Lucifer had made it out?

In a soft flutter of wings, Castiel was in the woods where he sensed the Grace. It was at this closer proximity that the Grace became almost recognizable, but there was no way it could be...

...a shift in the wind brought the scent of blood. A lot of blood.

OoOoO

"Any luck?" Dean asked into his cell.

A truck door slammed too hard over the line. "Nothing!" Jody almost snarled. "Not even a possible sighting."

"Nothing on my end either, sorry Dean." Garth said apologetically. "I take it you got nothing either. Have you heard from Castiel?"

"No. I've tried calling him, both ways, and he's not answering."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Jody asked.

"With Cas, it's hard to say." Dean replied. "Where were the locations he was going to check out, Garth?"

"I believe Devil's Lake Campground was on the top of the l - "

" _Devil's Lake Campground?!_ " Jody repeated, incredulous. "What the hell is wrong with the people of this state? Who names a lake that, let alone builds a park and campground on it?!"

"The website showed some nice scenery," Garth offered, though his tone said he agreed with Jody.

"Devil's Lake, huh," Dean muttered, digging out the map. "Sounds like a place Sammy would go. Kid has was too much - "

Jody interrupted him before he could finish. "Don't you dare, Dean Winchester. I will take you over my knee, so help me!"

Dean bit his tongue; he hadn't meant to start to say what he had, though he had thought it. A voice in the back of his head that sounded a lot like Castiel told him he was being unfair and cruel to his younger brother. 

 Somehow, they all ended up reaching the campground at the same time; Dean led the charge to the campground station.

 "Hello, may I help you?" A cheerful, feminine voice asked, though her body language made her seem distracted. Her nametag stated her name was Ava.

 "I'm looking for my brother," Dean told her, "We had a huge fight, and I was hoping he would've come here to get some space. He's about a head taller than I am, hair that needs a haircut, and probably wearing plaid."

 "He's driving an old, beat-up dark blue Ford, with a truckbed cover," Jody added.

 Ava's distractedness vanished for a moment. "Yes! He checked in almost two days ago, a non-electric campsite with lots of privacy, he asked for." She frowned a little. "He said he was a mystery writer. Fight must've been pretty bad for him to create such an elaborate hoax."

 "What campsite is he at?" Dean asked hurriedly.

 "I probably shouldn't be giving it out," she said, lowering her voice. "But I'll tell you, if you promise me two things."

 "What are your conditions?" asked Jody, stomping non-too gently on Dean's foot when he opened his mouth angrily.

 Ava locked eyes with Dean. "Make up with him, and don't you ever push him away so badly ever, ever again. My mother and her sister did that, about seven years ago. My aunt ended up killing herself." she turned her gaze to Jody and Garth. "And while you're up there, keep watch for a blonde, hairy dog about thirty-five pounds. Sam found him wandering around the woods and brought him down here to me. Really sweet dog. Took off on me about an hour after Sam left him with me. I think he went to look for him."

 OoOoO

 They found Sam's campsite easily enough. The truck was there, and a small pop-up camper alongside it. Wards surrounded the clearing, but appeared to be all intact; the same held true with the salt lines within the trailer.

 Dean ran his hand through his hair yet again; what did he do, go and look for his brother, or did he just wait for him to come back to his campsite?

 "I suppose we could split up and search for him, take the trails above the the lake," Jody said doubtfully, "cover more ground that way, and stay in contact with our phones. One of us could also stay here, in case Sam comes back here a different way."

 Dean snapped his phone shut. "Cas' isn't answering yet. I really hope we don't need to start searching for him too." he sighed.  "I suppose we- "

 Brush rustling on the far side of the clearing cut off Dean's words. Guns were pulled from holstered and aimed at... well, whatever was headed their way.

 A few tense seconds later, a dog ran into the clearing, mud clinging to its damp fur. It trotted halfway to them before stopping and cocking it's head, eyeing the three of them.

 Jody lowered her gun; after a moment, so did Garth. Dean didn't.

 "It's the dog that woman mentioned, Dean," Jody pointed out when Dean didn't lower his weapon.

 "How do we know it's no a shifter?" the hunter demanded, not taking his eyes off of the animal, which had barked at him again.

 "Ava said Sam had kept the dog for awhile. Do you really think a shifter would've allowed that?" Garth asked. "Don't you think that, as soon as it got him alone, it would've killed him?"

 After hesitated a moment longer, Dean tucked his gun away.

 "Too bad Castiel's not here, he could ask the dog to track Sam down," Jody said with a small chuckle, looking down at the dog, which had trotted over to stand in front of them. "Sure would cut down on the search time."

 "As sweet and helpful as my little brother is, I don't need him to translate for me. Hello, Dean Winchester."

 Gabriel smirked when the three hunters pulled their guns back out; though, judging by Dean's scowl, he was wishing for an Angel Blade right about now.

 "Is he a friend of yours, Dean?" demanded Jody.

 "Hard to say, depends on how he's feeling. He's either saving our lives or killing me over and over again in front of Sam." Dean snarled. "Give me one reason why we shouldn't kill you! And hey, aren't you supposed to be dead? Who the hell are you really?"

 Gabriel sighed theatrically. "We don't have time for this. We need to find Sam." He turned his attention solely onto Dean. "That wasn't me that Luci killed; it was a cleverly created and very rare homunculus. Lifelike, but not real, body," he summarized when Dean looked confused. "After my 'death', I had to lay low to make it seem genuine." 

 When no one lowered their weapons, the Archangel threw his hands up in the air. "Shoot me, then, if you don't believe me! Just do it so we can find Sam!"

 In the end, Dean did shoot Gabriel - once with silver, once with rock salt; and for good measure, tossed soap on him.

 Nothing.

 Still not completely trusting the Archangel... Trickster... whatever, Dean frowned at the being. "Why were you with Sam, and why the hell did you pretend to be a dog?!"

 "I felt him near." Gabriel said, voice soft. "I was in Madison, purging the city of demons. I didn't know it was him, at first. He must've thought of me, briefly. It's been awhile since that has happened to me. All I knew was that someone thought of me, and they were in such pain." He chuckled humorlessly. "Imagine my shock that when I track the human down, I find Sam Winchester, unconscious in the rain, bloody bandages a few feet away and oozing wounds on his wrists, right down there by the river. I didn't want to make matters worse, so I shapeshifted and curled up against him to keep him warm."

 "And he brought you back here with him? Did he test you to make sure you weren't a shifter? Why were his wrists bandages? Did something attack him?" Dean demanded.

 Gabriel frowned at the human; was he really that dense?

 "Yes, Sam brought me back here, with no testing. He thought I was a stray. As for him being attacked... I guess you could call it that."

 The air stilled, and became heavy. Gabriel stepped forward until he was right in front of Dean. "He was being attacked by his memories, by his own mind; be it you, be it Castiel, or Lucifer, or Sam himself. From what I saw, he's been carving himself up to try and feel, to punish, to silence the voices of  _you_ telling him he's not worth saving, that he no longer matters! And while you stand here, demanding answers, I hate to think of what Sam is doing with the backpack full of weapons by himself in the woods!"

 OoOoO

 The Grace faded for a bit once Castiel reached the woods, only to return roughly ten minutes later.

 He still hadn't found Sam yet, but the scent of blood was getting stronger. So was the Grace.

 A branch snapping made the Angel turn around.

 "Castiel! finally! Dean's been trying to get a hold of you for the past two hours!" Jody admonished before turning back the way she had come. "Dean! I found Castiel!" she turned back to him. "Oh, and so you're not shocked into oblivion when they get over here, turns out that other angel, Gabriel, isn't dead. He's been with Sam for the past few days pretending to be a dog." She noted the shock on Castiel's face. "I take it you know this angel Gabriel?"

 Castiel nodded his head slowly. "Y... yes." That explained the power of the Grace; it had been familiar, but because he had known - or so he and everyone else had thought - the Archangel had been killed by Lucifer.

 Garth yanked Dean's arm to keep him from snarling a string of curses and who knew what else at the angel; following behind them was Gabriel.

 "Gabriel," Castiel whispered, knowing full-well he should lower his eyes, bow,  _something_... but all he could do was stare.

"Later," Gabriel said, clapping a hand onto the other angel's shoulder. "Right now, we need to find Sam, and fast."

OoOoO

Sam wandered deeper into the woods, far off the hiking trail so his body wouldn't be found by someone exploring.

He wasn't sure quite yet how he was going to do... it.

He knew from previous experience that Lucifer could bring him back... but that had been before the Devil had been returned to the Cage. He hoped - God, did he hope - that Lucifer we be either unable or unwilling to bring him back now that he was back in the Cage with Michael; Adam had thankfully been removed by Death and taken to Heaven, despite the Horseman's statement to the oldest Winchester brother. He had kept his word and only returned Sam to the living. He wasn't so heartless as to leave Adam to face Lucifer and Michael's rage alone.

_Monster!_

_Vampire!_

_You're not my brother!_

_Got to Hell!_

The knife in Sam's hand sliced lightly into the opposite forearm, barely making it bleed. Retracing the cut, over and over, Sam cut it deeper and longer, going over scarred flesh which pinched and hurt differently from cutting unmarred skin.

_Worthless_

_Hopeless_

_Demon_

_Vampire_

_leave!_

A sob tore itself from Sam's throat; his entire body shook with the force of the ones which followed. He curled himself against the trunk of a tree, knees drawn tightly up to his chest. white-knuckled fingers dug into his upper arm on one side and still around the hilt of the hunting knife in the other hand; blood continued to ooze steadily from the fresh wounds on his arm, dripping haphazardly onto the ground - he didn't remember when, but he had added two more deep cuts to the other arm as well.

"I can't..." Sam whispered hoarsely. "There's no point, not anymore. There's no point... to me." 

_Go away!_

_I have you_

_Die_

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING!!!! Graphic suicide scene!!! also blood and gore.

They all searched together, the scent of blood taking them almost a mile deeper into the woods off of the far side of the trail which rose above the lake. Garth and Jody were calling out Sam’s name, their voices muted through the thickness of the trees. The angels and Dean remained silent.

As he followed the angels, the older Winchester’s hands kept clenching and unclenching, worry warring with the still-present… Hell, the ever-present anger at his brother for a whole host of reasons.

Ruby, and the demon blood.

Being weak enough to break the last seal, and set Lucifer free from his prison. It didn’t matter that Sam had thought at the time he was doing the right thing. He hadn’t thought ahead, hadn’t been suspicious enough to see the trap Ruby and Lilth had set for him.

For betraying Dean’s trust countless times.

For not looking for him and Castiel when he was in Purgatory.

For not only not looking for them, but also giving up hunting, for settling down with a woman.

On and on, his brain went, arguing back and forth, completely ignoring the looks the others were sending him.

“I take it you lot hasn’t found the moose yet?”

Crowley smirked as the humans and angels all jumped and whirled around to face him, enjoying having been able to get the drop on them. He gave a gentlemanly bow in Jody’s direction, who was aiming her gun at him. Again. Then he raised an eyebrow at the new addition to the group since he had last checked up on them in Sioux Falls. “Archangel Gabriel. Back from the dead, I see. Huh. Good for you. How did you manage that?”

Gabriel returned the Ruler of Hell’s smirk with one of his own, clearly not worried at all at having the demon with them. “Now, now, Crowley. If I told you that, I’d have to kill you.” Then he paused. “Or I’d just drop you into the Cage, and you can say hello to my brothers for me.”

Crowley shuddered. “Please, not there. That Lucifer has a horrible temper. I’d hate to – ” A shift in the wind blew the scent of blood to the demon. “Good God, please tell me that’s not all from the moose.”

“It is.” Castiel informed him. “We were tracking him before you showed up.”

The King of Hell waved his hand. “Then by all means, continue. Don’t let my presence stop your search.” When none of the gun holders moved, he sighed and threw his hands up theatrically. “If I was going to do something to you, do you think I’d announce my presence first?”

“Yes!” Chorused Dean, Jody and Garth.

In the end the two angels convinced the humans to lower their weapons and ignore the demon, though they all kept a wary eye on him.

OoOoO

Dean spotted Sam first. His anguished cry of “Sammy!!” shot a bolt of pain through everyone present, even Crowley’s shriveled-up heart.

Castiel and Gabriel froze in shock, unable to believe their eyes before tearing after the elder Winchester.

Garth was speechless and rooted to the spot.

Jody cried out a strangled “No!” before her knees gave out beneath her and she dropped to the ground, crying and dry heaving at the same time, one hand clamped over her mouth, the other wrapped around her stomach; her eyes remained fixed on the younger Winchester.

Crowley knelt down next to Jody and put an arm around her, his jaw clenched and twitching.

There was a small boulder near Sam, splattered with what looked sickeningly like bits of bone and brain matter. A handgun was on the ground nearby. The demon blade lay on the grass, its blade completely covered in blood. Blood was splattered and pooled underneath his body.

Sam himself was hanging from a large tree branch, the skin of his neck purpling under the rope. His arms hung limply at his sides, large gashes scattered on both sides of his forearms. Drying blood ran rivlets down his pale, thin arms – when had he gotten that thin?! – and the side of his face. There was a hole in his bloodied shirt over his heart, though it was hard to tell if there was an actual wound beneath all of the blood or not.

Strangely, his head was intact, though there was a large, bruised scar on his temple.

He had also gutted himself. Intestines glistened wetly through the rent he had made in his abdomen, and a few loops had slipped out to hang there. Blood and other fluids soaked his shirt and pants, some dripping down to join the pool on the ground.

Garth joined Dean in supporting Sam’s body while Castiel vanished the rope. Together, the two humans laid him gently onto the ground, attempting to ignore Sam’s blood soaking into their clothes and covering their skin.

Immediately, Gabriel was with them, blue Grace pouring in waves into the body in front of them. Wounds knit themselves together almost instantly. The bruising on Sam’s neck melted away, and the swelling vanished. Another blink, and the blood on his skin and clothes vanished. In his rage and grief – he cared for the younger Winchester boy, despite the atrocities he had put the human through (for his own good) – he didn’t remove the blood on the humans. His rage towards Dean had been simmering dangerously when he had walked up to them in the campsite. Now… now he was seconds away from smiting him.

Jody and Crowley had finally joined them, the Archangel noticed from the edges of his vision. He was surprised to see Crowley still had a supportive hand on Jody’s lower back; the human woman stared down at Sam, tears silently streaming down her cheeks, her hand pressed tightly to her mouth.

The Archangel blinked himself back into focusing on sending his Grace into Sam’s body; oddly, though Sam was most definitely dead, there was a faint strand of Grace which wasn’t his still connected to Sam’s body. Gabriel suspected on the other end was Sam’s soul. He recognized the Grace almost immediately, but looked up at Castiel for confirmation, eyes wide in shock. The seraphim, who had been assisting him with healing the wounds Sam had made on his arms, met his gaze with bright blue eyes. There was no shock in them, only sadness, and fear.

Dean had yet to let up on his softly spoken litany, tears running down his cheeks.

“C’mon, Sam, wake up. How could you be this stupid? I’m gonna kick your ass from here to eternity! Wake up, Sam. Sammy, c’mon, damn it!”

On and on. Then he looked sharply up at Gabriel. “Bring him back!” He snarled. “You’re a friggin’ Archangel! You have the power to being people back! I’ve seen it! Bring back Sam! Bring back my brother, or so help me –”

“What the Hell do you think I’m attempting to do?!” Gabriel thundered, his voice carrying more than a hint of his real, tucked away power. “Be silent, human, on things you don’t seem to understand.”

Castiel reached over Sam’s body to grab Dean’s arm. “There is something preventing Gabriel from reaching out to see where Sam’s soul is. I’m almost positive that it’s Lucifer’s Grace.”

“I’ve heard about the promise dear Lucifer made to Sam,” Crowley commented; his hand was now rubbing slow, soothing circles on Jody’s back. “Looks like this is proof of it.”

“What? What promise?” Dean demanded.

Castiel and Crowley stared at him. Finally, the demon said, “You mean to tell me Sam never told you Lucifer promised to bring Sam back to life, should he attempt to kill himself to remove himself from the whole becoming Lucifer’s meatsuit fiasco?”

Dean looked utterly gobsmacked. After a moment, he stuttered, “Whoh whoh whoh, w-what a moment, why… why would the devil say something like th-that? And h-how come y-you guys know but I d-don’t?”

“‘Pick a hemisphere’.” Garth quoted with a growl, his own rein on his rage finally snapping. “Does that sound familiar Dean? When did Sam have the chance to tell you, let alone a reason? Yes, he’s messed up. He admits it! He apologized, countless times and has tried very hard to make up for his mistakes! But good God, Dean! _grow up, learn to accept an apology and move on!_  He hasn’t had a reason to trust you for years!”

Dean’s mouth was hanging open in shock at the usually calm hunter’s sudden outburst, though his hand remained tightly clenching Sam’s shirt.

Garth wasn’t finished, though. “You heard Amelia. Sam was going to commit _suicide_  before he hit Riot and brought him to her clinic. How often do you think he thought about killing himself before that? After that? Given Lucifer’s promise, for all we know he did try! All because he had lost what mattered most to him in this world: you! You pushed him away and you pushed him away. Well congratulations, you pushed him right off the edge! You – ”

“SHUT UP!” Dean screamed, finally releasing Sam to grab Garth’s shirt and throw him into the trunk of a large tree and pin him there. The blood was roaring in Dean’s ears and through his body and before he could stop himself, his fist struck Garth’s jaw, knocking him to the ground. Another punch landed in the shorter hunter’s stomach, a third on the jaw.

Garth didn’t fight back. Dean, finally noticing, and the back of his mind finally drawing to the conclusion that there were no words, not truly, that he could say to counter what Garth – or any of them – would or had said.

The next moment he was flung backwards and pinned to a tree. He looked angrily towards Gabriel and Castiel, but instead he saw Crowley with his hand up, palm facing the hunter. The demon smirked coldly at him. “Keep up like that, Squirrel, and you’ll put Soulless Sammy and your dear, dead old Daddy to shame. You’re using your fists because you have no words to fight the truth with. Even you know that. But, I wonder, can you admit it?”

Dean opened his mouth to spit out a retort, a threat, something; but found he couldn’t. Guilt nudged at his mind, pointing out how sad it was that it was a demon pointing out the truth, and protecting Sam… from him.

Crowley chuckled once humorlessly. “Hmm. That’s what I thought.”

Jody stepped from the Demon’s hand to kneel down next to Castiel, placing a gentle hand on Sam’s cheek; she hadn’t even looked up when Crowley had torn Dean off of Garth. “If Lucifer has… tied… Sam’s soul to his body, does that mean he’s not really dead? Or that, well, he’ll come back to life?”

Castiel hesitated, then over at Gabriel for confirmation or denial. The Archangel grimaced. “I believe so, yes. Whether Lucifer never bothered to remove the Tie which holds Sam’s soul to his body – and would most likely have eventually healed it had we not – or wasn’t able to, I don’t know. I’d hope he’s not still managing this from the Cage, but I’m afraid he might be.”

“So he will come back?” Dean asked from the tree trunk to which Crowley still had him pinned against. “He’s not really… ”

“Not really _dead_?” Gabriel replied, an eyebrow raised. “Depends on my dear brother Luci whether he allows Sam back into his body, or allows him to wake up at all. I think that might’ve been Sam’s reasoning for hanging himself, hoping that if Lucifer did bring him back, he’d just die right over again.”

Castiel used a gentle finger to touch where the scar-bruise had been on Sam’s temple. “I think Sam first chose to attempt one of the more common ways of suicide. It would explain the bone and brain matter fragments on the rock.”

Though his words were meant to be positive, in their morbid way, Dean and Jody both flinched. “So he already tried,” Jody murmured. “And it didn’t work.”

“Let him loose, Crowley.” Garth requested as he got to his feet, wiping the blood from his split lip on the back of his hand. “I’ll punch back next time.”

Crowley shook his head wordlessly but released the elder Winchester, who shot a look of apology to the other hunter before returning to his brother’s side. “How much longer do you think it’ll take for him to come back?” he asked as he knelt back down.

“We’re not sure,” Castiel started to say before Gabriel suddenly went rigid and grabbed hold of Sam’s head with both hands, blue Grace glowing from them. “Lucifer is attempting to shove Sam’s soul back into his body,” he said through gritted teeth. “If I do it right as he starts to release Sam’s soul, I should be able to sever his hold on it.” He looked up at the gathered motley crew. “Hold him down, if I lose connection now the only way I will be in position to sever his tie again is to have Sam die again, and I don’t think any of us, even the King of Hell truly want that!”

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: mentions of past self-harm and suicide, mention of rape and torture.

Gabriel could feel the burning, prickling sensation of Lucifer’s Grace manipulating Sam’s soul, causing as much pain to it as the fallen Archangel could as he started shoving it back into Sam’s body.

“Hold Sam down, now!” Gabriel ordered. “He will most likely seize, and we don’t need him thrashing around and harming himself, or jerking out of my grip; I need to remain in contact with him for this to work!”

OoOoO

Gabriel dived into the Netherness – the space between Life and Death – where Lucifer was still holding Sam’s soul, just short of shoving him back into his body.

“Well, well. Gabriel. And here I thought I’d finally killed you.”

Gabriel scowled; he had hoped to do this before his brother sensed him and his Grace. He couldn’t see his older brother, but he could sense him close by. “Sorry to disappoint,” he said lightly. “but you know me, always a disappointment. Well, not as bad as you, but hey we can’t all be you.”

Lucifer’s mood darkened, and he tightened the grip of his Grace on Sam’s soul, making it keen. “What are you doing here, Gabriel?” he hissed. “Surely you don’t think you can take away what is mine.”

Gabriel kept himself moving, attempting to get between Sam’s physical form and the soul which was inching back to its body and Lucifer, but every time he attempted to maneuver Lucifer’s Grace-self, a solid force shoved him back away.

Changing tactics, he said blithely, “Why don’t you stop playing with that human soul and play with me?”

Lucifer chuckled. “All in good time. Sammy has to learn not to anger me by testing the limits I will go to to keep him where he should be, though I do dearly wish he was still down here with me. He was such fun to play with.”

“What about Michael?” Gabriel asked.

“Michael’s no fun other than to fight with. When Sam was here, we would make him bleed and scream, yes. And that is fun. But our dear brother wouldn’t soil himself by burying himself inside of a human.”

Gabriel wanted to vomit at Lucifer’s implicating that he had raped Sam, though he had little doubt it had happened; he had been witness to Sam’s nightmares when he was the dog curled up next to the human.

Sensing his disgust, Lucifer laughed. “At least I didn’t actively fall in love with a human, unlike Castiel.” He shook his head. “Falling for a _human_ , let alone one so tainted with Darkness… how can you stand the seraphim’s presence, Gabriel?”

Gabriel hadn’t really noticed, but didn’t see the point in getting upset about it. Sam needed someone who loved him; given, him, Dean and Castiel had all royally screwed over and hurt Sam well past what any normal person would even dream about forgiving.

And yet, he had seen brief flashes in Sam’s non-violently nightmarish dreams a conversation with a human empath (the thoughts and associations Sam had with her made him really want to met her) about her knowing he was in love with someone in relation to the color blue, and Sam understanding the reference to Castiel’s blue eyes.

Who was he, an Archangel, who had been here since well before the world began, to judge if his little brother fell in love with a human who had overcome so many horrible supernatural odds, only to fall from words spoken from those he loved?

Will hardened, Gabriel lashed out and Lucifer’s Grace, attempting to sever the cord of his Grace holding Sam’s soul. He was barely able to touch it before Lucifer whipped around and sent a bolt of his own Grace at Gabriel, making him flash out of the way, reappearing opposite of where he had been.

“You _dare_ attack me?!” Lucifer hissed. “What makes you think you can best me?”

Gabriel smirked. “Because I’m me.” He lashed out again, this time with multiple (some real, some illusional) bolts of Grace, giving Lucifer no choice other than to shove Sam’s soul back into his body and get out of the way.

Mentally, Gabriel swore; so much for severing the tie.

Lucifer smirked as he went on the attack, making Gabriel back away from him and Sam. “You will never, ever be able to take away what is mine!”

OoOoO

Gabriel had predicted correctly. Sam started seizing shortly after Gabriel went dead still, hands on either side of Sam’s head, back arching and limbs shaking violently.

“What the Hell is happening?!” Dean demanded as he held down Sam’s right arm and shoulder. “Is Sam back? Is he alive?”

Kneeling opposite of Dean, Castiel shook his head as he fought to keep Sam’s other arm and shoulder pinned to the ground. “No. It is the amount of Grace Lucifer is using to hurt Sam’s soul before he returned it to his body.” He blinked. “I also think he is angry at Sam for attempting to kill himself, and it appears Gabriel has started to attack him in the Netherness.”

“Netherness?” Jody whispered. She had knelt down to help with Sam’s legs.

Crowley, despite himself, was on the other leg. “It’s the space between the human life and death. It’s pretty much… nothing. You just float around until you either die, or you are brought back. Being stuck in it, for a human, would drive them insane.”

Suddenly, Sam’s body went limp.

Garth, who had laid down across Sam’s hips, swore.

“What just happened?!” growled Dean. “Is his soul back?”

“Almost,” Castiel answered, frowning as his Grace pooled around his hands as he placed them over Sam’s heart and forehead. “No. No, no, no. No!”

The next moment there was a noise like a thunderclap which didn’t originate from the still-misting sky, and everyone but Castiel and Gabriel were thrown backwards away from Sam’s body. A boiling, shifting, sparking mound of Grace engulfed the three. Castiel was still kneeling, crouched over Sam’s prone body; shadows extended away from the angel’s body in the vague shape of wings.

“Oh my God…” Jody murmured.

Dean attempted to approach but was thrown back again and was caught by Garth. “Stay here, man.” He said through gritted teeth. “Castiel must be trying something, and having you close might get you hurt.”

Dean’s chest was heaving, eyes fixed on his little brother and the two angels. “Sammy…”

OoOoO

To have a third Grace make a sudden, barreling, shattering, brief appearance within the Netherness hadn’t been what Gabriel had expected as he and Lucifer continued exchanging and dodging blows. A solid, powerful slash of Grace full of rage _shattered_ the tie Lucifer still had on Sam’s soul, almost a mockery of a human flying a kite.

Shrieking in fury, Lucifer whipped around to attack the bearer of the new Grace and send a tendril of Grace towards Sam’s soul at the same time.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Gabriel threw a loop of Grace around Lucifer and widened it until it became a cage, and yanked him back just as the third Grace slammed him away from itself and from Sam.

_**Mine**_.

“How the Hell did _Castiel_ just manage that?!” Lucifer snarled. “He does not possess the strength to sever a tie made by an Archangel! Did you share your Grace with him?!”

“I did nothing of the sort.” Gabriel retorted, tightening the bonds on his brother. “Castiel is stronger than you think. He has gained much being with the Winchester brothers, the least of which is strength, love, and free-will.”

“He’s an embarrassment!” Lucifer spat. “He should be smited for this, not to mention his love for Sam!”

Gabriel shook his head. “That’s rich, coming from someone with such a huge obsession over the same human.”

“He’s mine! He’s destined to be mine!”

Gabriel scoffed. “Screw destiny. You’ll never touch him again outside of his nightmares.”

Lucifer, it seemed was reaching his limit of extending himself outside of the wards on the Cage. “I’ll find a way,” he hissed in promise. “I’ll get out. And when I do, you’d better smite the pair of them, and yourself for good measure, because it will be far more pleasant than what I will do to you!”

OoOoO

Castiel could feel the utter agony Sam’s soul was in as soon as he dived into the Netherness, following the tie Lucifer had on it. Sam was weeping, begging for death, for it all to stop, to finally end, to be over. He didn’t want to live, he didn’t want to go back.

Rage, pure and hot, flooded Castiel and his Grace exploded from within him as it shot out of him and into the depths of the Netherness, finding and shattering the bond Lucifer had on Sam’s soul as if it were nothing. Distantly, he knew that shouldn’t have been possible, he was just a lowly seraphim, and had just broken through a long-held tie made by an Archangel.

But right now though, he gathered his Grace in a shield around him and Sam and shot out an blast of Grace towards Lucifer as Gabriel attacked from the rear and snagged the other Archangel like a Venus Fly Trap did a bug and started dragging Lucifer away while at the same time absorbing the Grace; a trick from the Trickster, how shocking.

Now that Lucifer was occupied, Castiel focused on Sam’s soul, barely anchored to his body and slipping away by the second. With nothing holding it, Sam’s soul could slip out of his body again and not return.

Gently, carefully, lovingly, Castiel enveloped Sam’s soul with his own Grace.

_Castiel?_ Sam whispered. _How_ …

Sensing confusion and fear from Sam, Castiel murmured, “It’s ok, Sam. It’s me. I severed the tie Lucifer had on you. You’re safe.”

_No I’m not_. Came the reply, disbelief and broken hope lacing his voice. _How can I be sure this isn’t another trick from Lucifer… last I knew, you were still stuck in Purgatory._

“My Father helped me to escape Purgatory, Sam.” Castiel replied. “I don’t know how I can prove myself to you, but I will do whatever I must. Please, _please_  come back to us, to me, and I will.”

_Us?_ More confusion. Slowly, slowly, Sam’s soul took human shape.

“Yes, us.” Castiel said, mentally rejoicing as Sam’s soul settled into being. “Dean, Gabriel, me, Garth, Jody. Even Crowley is here. And if she wasn’t needed by the animals under her care, Amelia would be here too.”

Sam shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself as if he were cold. “…Dean... Dean’s here? Why?”

Castiel drew close to Sam, who was watching him warily. “He loves you, Sam. He’s starting to see how horrible he’s been behaving, turning his rage onto you. When we found you…” Castiel shuddered at the memory. “Sam, his heart broke when we found you dead, hanging from that tree. We got you down and Gabriel and I healed you. He did get into it briefly with Garth, but Crowley broke it up.” He chuckled softly. “Jody collapsed when we found you; Crowley held her.”

That actually shocked amusement out of Sam. “You’re kidding.”

Castiel briefly shared the memory of Jody collapsing to her knees, sobbing, and then Crowley kneeling down in the mud and wrapping an arm around her.

“If I didn’t know demons had no hearts, I’d think he had a thing for her.” Sam commented.

The angel nodded, a small smile on his lips. “Agreed.” He sighed heavily. “Please come back, Sam.”

The amusement died from Sam as if turned off by a switch. “Why should I?”

“Because Dean loves you, Sam.” Castiel replied. Then he hesitantly added, “And… so do I.”

Castiel could feel the emotional pain shoot through Sam before he gathered up all of his emotions and bottled them up, but not before Castiel was able to grasp and understand why.

Sam was in love with him, he had been right, before Purgatory. And it seems that love was still there. But he also sensed that Sam believed Castiel would hate him for the truth.

But how could he prove to Sam that he loved him?

“How.. how could you have any sort of feelings for me besides disgust?” the question posed by Sam broke the angel out of his thoughts.

Taking another slow step forward towards Sam, who stiffened but didn’t move Castiel cautiously took one of Sam’s hands into his own. “Because I’ve gotten to know you, Sam Winchester.” He said earnestly, eyes locked on Sam’s. “The amazing man who always wants to help people, who believes in doing the right thing, even if it’s hard, even if it’ll hurt. You are so far from what most angels believe you to be. You would do anything to help and protect and fight for those you love. Your love and your soul are so beautiful, Sam. How could I _not_ fall for you?”

Gently, he placed a kiss on Sam’s palm.

Sam’s whole body went rigid; a flashing memory showed Castiel how Lucifer had played on Sam’s love for Castiel more than once. Castiel frowned. “Lucifer is a monster, Sam. Abuse which you did not deserve. He soiled your memories and emotional ties to those you love.” He held the hand between his own. “Come back with me, Sam. We can build new ones, all of us. Please, Sam. Please come back.”

Sam stared into his eyes, searching for any hint of a lie. When he finally spoke, Castiel could sense more than hear the trepidation, the fear, in Sam.

“Ok.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we're starting to wind down. Thoughts? Please review, they feed my Muse!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Reference to Sam's suicide, depression and self-harm

The first thing Sam realized has he became more aware of everything was how his body ached dully; he felt like he had just had one Hell of a rough sparring session with Dean and his dad. He didn’t think there was an inch of himself that  _didn’t_ ache and feel bruised; even his hair seemed to be in pain. He wanted to move, but his limbs wouldn’t obey him, as if lead weights were anchoring him to the ground, or whatever he was laying on. It felt like he  _might_ be partially sitting upright instead of being completely horizontal, but he wasn’t sure.

The second thing was the smells. Blood, bile, and wet earth were present, but far more obvious was sweat, leather, car oil, and what could almost be the Impala... and  _Dean_.

But that couldn’t be right. That would mean Dean was here.

Or did it? Castiel had told him they had found him. Dean, Castiel, Garth, Gabriel, Jody, and even Crowley. But why?

He didn’t understand why…

Lucifer’s pure, blazing rage at Gabriel as he attacked him, and as Castiel severed the ties between fallen Archangel and human hunter had been the angriest Sam had ever seen him, topping even right after he had jumped out of Sam once they landed in the Cage.

Maybe, just maybe…

Maybe it had been real? Was such a thing even possible in his life, that something  _good_ had happened? Sam almost laughed. Something good had coming out of his suicide? Oh, the irony…

The third thing Sam realized was whatever he was propped against was wrapped around him, and was warm.

And shaking.

What the Hell…

“C’mon, Sammy, open your eyes, damn it! Sam, Sammy, come back. Wake up! Please, wake up! Don’t die on me again!”

Dean. Dean was actually  _holding_ onto him, tightly as if he was afraid if he let Sam go, he’d never get him back.

Almost… almost as if he  _loved_ Sam, and didn’t want to lose him.

What the…

Slowly, other sensations made themselves aware. Someone’s hand was firmly on his shoulder, another clasping his hand tightly in their own; it felt like Castiel’s hands.

Someone, or two someone’s, had a hand on each of his upper thighs, one’s thumb rubbing soothing circles while the other just rested there reassuringly.

“Why isn’t he waking up?!” Dean demanded above him. “You said he was back!”

“Sam is alive, and his soul is back in his body,” Castiel confirmed on his other side; so he was right. The person holding his hand was the angel. “it will take him time to wake up, Dean. Your brother was dead, and being tortured by Lucifer. Even though Gabriel and I healed his body, he is still in a great deal of pain, and has to work through that to come back.”

“How long until he wakes up?”

Castiel’s grip on his hand tightened. “Not long, I suspect. Perhaps a few hours. He very well could be situationally aware right now, but unable to push further as of yet.” He paused. “Your brother is very strong, Dean. He will come back to us.”

“If I…” Jody’s voice broke, thumb pausing briefly in its soothing circles. “If I had known what he was planning, I would’ve knocked his ass out and locked him up in my jail until you got up here.”

“Sam has been fighting himself and Lucifer for awhile, Jody Mills.”

Gabriel. While Sam had felt his presence while in the Netherness, he was curious on how the Archangel was a. alive, and b. had known where they were and what going on, and c. wasn’t pissed beyond belief at them for letting him get killed by his Fallen brother.

The Archangel continued, his own hand tightening on Sam’s other thigh, “You didn’t know. All you knew was he and Dean had a huge fight, and he wanted some time alone after that to gather himself. It’s  _not your fault_.”

Dean heaved a heavy sigh, and Sam was willing to bet his brother had been yelling at Jody at some point about letting him go. He’d felt bad for putting Jody in such a position, especially when she had been so obviously worried about him. And to be totally honest, he hadn’t specifically been planning on killing himself when he first left Dean and then Jody. He had just wanted to get away from Dean.

And then Lucifer, whether it was his own mind creating hallucinations or if the Devil was truly managing to reach him from the Cage and was really visiting him, had shown up and refused to leave, no matter what he did. Not that it really mattered, now. No matter which one it had been, it had been the final push he had needed to find a – ways, the first couple of tries hadn’t been successful. Well, permanent – way to kill himself.

“Sammy, I’m so sorry.”

An apology? From Dean? Thought they had prevented the end of the world after Sam’s swan dive into the Cage. Since when did Dean ever say he was sorry to anyone, let alone Sam? Had Hell frozen over? Was that why Crowley was here?

“I… I should’ve talked to you more, asked for your side of everything instead of just assuming. Why the Hell didn’t you correct me?!” Dean’s arms around Sam’s body tightened almost painfully. “Damnnit, Sammy. What have I done…”

Sam wanted to move his body, to speak, but he couldn’t quite take control of his body yet.

The back of someone’s warm hand touched the cheek not pressed against Dean’s jacket. “You two can talk once he wakes up. But remember this, Dean Winchester. If you hurt him this way again, or anything even remotely similar, I will make you regret it.”

“Right back at you.” Was the surprising answer. No defense, no arguing. Who was this ‘Dean’ holding him and where was the real one?

“What are you implying, Dean?”

Dean paused, adjusting his hold on Sam’s body, fingers threading through Sam’s hair and holding him gently close, head resting on Dean’s shoulder. “I know Sam has a thing for you. I know you know, too. I’ve seen the looks you were giving him before the whole bullshit Purgatory fiasco. Let him down gently, will you?”

“What ever made you assume I don’t feel the same way for him as he does for me?”

The spark from the kiss the angel had placed on his palm made Sam’s heart tighten painfully. So he hadn’t imagined that? It hadn’t been wishful thinking, or Lucifer, or a dream? It had been… real?

“I thought the Bible said that God and his angels are against homosexuality.” Garth asked from somewhere down by Sam’s feet.

A heavy sigh. “You humans do realize that the Bible was written by humans, do you not?” Crowley, at his most condescending. “No matter what God or angels told them, they wrote down their own interpretation, or wrote their own shit. Not to mention, do you have any idea how many translations those words have gone through?” he seemed to shudder. “Vastly different from the original.”

“My Father doesn’t care about sexual identity or orientation in His creations.” Gabriel said. “That was humans, attempting to keep control of the mass population.” He paused, and Sam could picture him smirking. “Besides, how else is man going to keep having new generations to send into needless wars without straight people breeding with each other?”

Jody snorted, though Sam could tell she was still crying. “Very well put.”

“So you have feelings for Sam?” Dean demanded, his body posture shifting ever so slightly into a more guarded position over Sam’s prone (but aware) body. “Why haven’t you said anything to him, or to me?”

Castiel didn’t answer at first, and Sam’s stomach clenched painfully until the angel finally said, “I… was unsure of what I was feeling, at first. I’ve cared for and been fond of others. My siblings, my Father. You, Dean.” He paused. “But Sam… after I got to see Sam for Sam, not what Heaven had said he was, that he was a beautiful, pure soul… it was different. And then as I was starting to figure everything out, we were battling the Leviathans, and then you and I were in Purgatory. Didn’t really leave any time for me to bring it up to either of you.”

“You should’ve still said something,” Dean muttered.

“Castiel?” Jody asked. “You said Sam could very well be situationally aware soon, if not now. Does that mean he knows we’re here? Can he hear us?”

Sam felt Dean’s body tense.

“It’s very possible.” Castiel replied.

“Why haven’t you looked into his mind and found out?” demanded Dean.

“Sam has had enough angels touching his mind without permission.” Castiel replied firmly. “I will not violate him again like that for no reason. Sam is strong, Dean. He will find his was back soon enough.” His hand tightened again on Sam’s. “Sam, if you can here us, when you can, tighten your hand on mine.”

Dean jumped in. “C’mon, Sammy, wake up. You can do this! Wake up, damn it! I need to talk to you!”

Sam tried, he really, really did. But he couldn’t get his body to work the way he wanted yet. Mentally, he growled in frustration as he continued to listen to the words Dean spoke, occasionally Castiel and Jody as well.

Later, Dean shifted him. Sam was fully aware of his body now, despite his current – and very aggravating – lack of control. He could feel the cool air through the rent of the shirt where he had gutted himself right before letting himself fall off of the rock to hang, struggling, below the sturdy tree branch he had tied the noose to.

He could feel the warm leather of Dean’s jacket below his head, feel his arms around him, refusing to set him down even for an instant.

He could still feel Gabriel and Jody’s hands on his thighs.

He could feel Castiel’s hand in his, warm and comforting. He wondered if the angel was still wearing his traditional trench coat, or if he has lost it in Purgatory.

He felt the amulet slip out from beneath his shirt.

“I didn’t know you gave your pendant to Sam, Dean.” Castiel commented.

Dean’s breath caught, his body tightening. “I… I didn’t.” he replied hoarsely. “We… we had a fight. We… some hunters found Sam and I, and killed us.”

Sam heard Jody gasp, here hand tightening on Sam’s leg; Gabriel harshly demanded names. Sam wished he could feel sorry for Walt and Roy when the Archangel/Loki found them, but found he didn’t give a shit what the Trickster did to them.

Dean continued, “Walt and Roy… I still haven’t figured out how they found us. Anyway, we found each other together in Heaven, after a little while. But.. all of Sam’s memories, they were all when he was either apart from me and dad, or leaving us. We met up with Ash, and Pamela, who helped us find our way to a garden and to someone named Joshua. Then that punk-ass Zachariah showed up, saying how he was going to continue to torture us until we said yes, but Joshua made him release us, something about ‘or face God’s wrath’. Also said something about that God was on Earth, but there was no way we could track him down.”

“How long did it take you two to realize that the angels, most likely Zachariah himself, had messed with what you saw while in Heaven?” Gabriel asked.

Dean was momentarily left speechless. “What?” he finally managed to demand.

Figures, Sam thought. He had always wondered about Heaven, wondered if it had been because he had demon blood in him, that Heaven had been attempting to make him leave. That had always seemed more likely, although he had briefly considered angelic interference, but not at this level.

“It was yet another attempt of Zachariah’s to force the two of you apart. He took memories of Sam’s he knew were bittersweet for Sam, but would infuriate you, make you distrust your brother and think that you didn’t mean as much to him as you thought, as he meant to you.” Gabriel said slowly, as if he was surprised the elder Winchester hadn’t realized that. “And I’m going to assume it was successful?”

Sam felt Dean nod, his chin resting on top of Sam’s head. “You could say that,” he said softly. “I was  _furious_ with Sam, and he couldn’t seem to tell me anything. I… I threw the amulet into the trash before we left that hotel. Sammy must’ve grabbed it before we left.”

Sam had. The symbolism of Dean discarding the amulet, of discarding Sam, had been too painful for Sam to  _not_ save the amulet. Not out of hope of repairing the rent in their relationship, but as a reminder to himself to never forget what he had done to his brother, and as a reminder of what he had lost.

Something warm and wet hit Sam’s cheek. Was Dean.. was he  _crying_?!

“Sammy, please…” Dean managed to choke out. “Please… wake up, for me, huh, little brother? Please come back… I need you…”

He needed to reach them, reach Castiel, reach  _Dean_.

Finally,  _finally_ , his body started to listen.

He tightened his fingers around Castiel’s hand, and the hem of Dean’s jacket that had slipped into his other hand.

“Sam?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Reviews feed the Muse!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: suicide aftermath, attempted suicide, verbal abuse
> 
> Short and not so sweet chapter, but it's been two months (shame on me!) and I wanted to post SOMETHING

_“Sammy, please…” Dean managed to choke out. “Please… wake up, for me, huh, little brother? Please come back… I need you…”_

_He needed to reach them, reach Castiel, reach_ _Dean_   _._

_Finally,_ _finally_ _, his body started to listen._

_He tightened his fingers around Castiel’s hand, and the hem of Dean’s jacket that had slipped into his other hand._

_“Sam?!_

OoOoO

“…D’n?”

His throat was parched, and felt like he had swallowed a handful of sand, and followed it down with a chaser of nails and bits of glass. His body felt as if it had been run over a couple of times by Alexandra’s semi; there wasn’t a single iota of himself which didn’t hurt. Only one of his eyes would open – barely, and the other was crusted shut what was probably blood from his failed attempt to shoot himself in the head – to look up and see Dean’s bright green eyes, red and shining with tears.

He was quickly enveloped in the tightest bear hug from his brother he could remember having since they were kids, one hand on his back and the other threading fingers through his damp hair.

“Oh, God… Sammy… I…” Dean’s voice broke. “Don’t you _ever_ do this to me, ever again, you hear me?! I’m really, really pissed off at you!”

Didn’t really sound like it right now.

Someone else must have glared at him, because Dean continued, “I can’t lose you, man. We’re a team, we’re _brothers_ , damn it!”

“You’re soulmates, actually.” Gabriel informed the pair abruptly from nearby. “That’s why you both shared the same Heaven, twisted though it was.”

“How are they soulmates?” Jody asked in confusion.

“Souls can be soulmates without romantic love.” Replied Gabriel. “That’s just silly mortal assumptions. Soulmates can also be siblings, cousins, best friends, occasionally parent and child.”

Someone lay their hand on Sam’s throat, and the pain faded to a tolerable ache, and he also found he could open his other eye.

Brilliantly blue eyes watched him carefully from a face framed with dark, damp hair. “I’m sorry I cannot do more to ease your pain, Sam.” He winced. “Shattering the tie Lucifer had on you… drained me.”

“S’ok, Cas.” Sam replied, dropping his eyes as the past day bombarded him with memories.

Memories of finally succumbing to darkness as his body lost the fight or flight fight, his fingers leaving deep red scratches on his neck as his body ached for air, for a release from the rope around his neck – despite the fact he still wanted to die.

Memories of Lucifer’s rage, his Grace shredding Sam’s already tattered soul again, and again, and again.

Of the sudden appearance of Gabriel, attempting to shield him from his Archangel brother and fight him off at the same time.

At first, he had thought it was another trick of Lucifer’s, but the Devil’s rage at the appearance of Gabriel, and then Castiel, was all too real.

Memories of Castiel’s gentle Grace pooling around him, cooling the searing pain left by Lucifer. Of Castiel telling him that they had come looking for him, even Dean, because they cared.

Because they loved him.

Memories of Castiel’s lips pressing a gentle kiss onto the palm of his hand.

No. That had not happened; Sam was sure of it.

Purity had no reason being with Darkness.

“Sam, it was real.” Castiel said, breaking Sam out of his thoughts.

“What?” Dean demanded in a growl, arms tightening around his brother. “Cas? What was real?”

Castiel was seemingly unimpressed with Dean’s anger. “Sam knows of what I speak. What it is is between him and I. It is up to him to decide if it is something he wishes to share with you, or anyone else. Otherwise, drop it, Dean.”

Someone moderately gently smacked Sam’s leg, making the taller Winchester try and sit up to address them, Dean keeping a supportive hand on his back.

Jody glared at him. “Next time you want to go off and die, boy, you just tell me and I’ll shoot you myself, save all of us the trouble of trying to find you!” She got up and stormed off.

Crowley sighed. “I’ll go and keep on eye on our spitfire little cop, shall I?” he sighed again as he got to his feet and walked after her.

“I… think I will go play Chaperone.” Garth said, getting to his feet. “Nice to see you back, by the way, Sam. Would’ve missed ya.”

Sam had to wonder if the King of Hell really thought he was fooling any of them. Even he, freshly revived from the dead could see he was smitten.

“She’s not going to make it easy for him.” Sam said with a dry chuckle.

Dean squawked. “Wait, what?! Crowley and _Jody?!_ Does Gabriel need to take a look at your head, Sammy?”

Ok, maybe he was fooling someone.

“You really couldn’t see that?” Sam asked, turning to look at his brother.

Dean opened his mouth but nothing came out. Finally he managed to say, “Seriously?!”

Castiel snorted. “Even I could see that.”

Dean scowled. “Well excuse me for being frantic about finding my suicidal idiot of a brother!” he shouted. “I had to track his sorry ass down yet _again_ and – ”

Gabriel yanked Sam out of Dean’s grasp; Castiel grabbed Dean’s lapel and threw him against a nearby boulder.

“If you are unable to learn from your past mistakes, Dean Winchester, you will be banished from here.” Castiel snarled, eyes flashing electric blue. “If you are unable to evolve, as your species is rumored to be able to do, I will never let you near what is mine!”

“He aint yours!” Dean spat back, struggling uselessly against the power holding him to the boulder. “You don’t know how much trouble he is, I promise you! Trust me, you don’t want _that_ hanging out with you!”

“Sam isn’t yours, either!” Castiel hissed. “You've shown time and time again that you do not want him, that you do not trust him, that you do not care about him! What do you care if someone else comes along and scoops him up?!”

Dean snorted. “Just save yourself the trouble, Cas, and walk away. He’ll only stab you in the back first and every chance he gets!” he turned his gaze to Sam. “It’s the one thing you’re good at, huh Sammy? Turning on the people who care on you? Mom, Dad, Me, Jessica, Cas, Bobby. Hell, you turned on Gabriel; you turned on the whole freaking _world_ , and even the demon bitch!”

Sam felt Gabriel’s arms tighten around him. “My choices were on me, Sam. Not you.” He murmured. “Your mother made a deal with a demon; same as your father. Bobby died fighting; it had nothing, _nothing_ , to do with you, you got it?”

Dean wasn’t finished. “Demon blooded, demon, blood-sucking vampire _freak_ is what you are! No way in Hell you’re my brother! In all honesty, you never were! Not since you burned mom on the ceiling!”

“That wasn’t me!” Sam cried, bewildered eyes on his brother. “That was Yellow Eyes!”

“Yeah. Sure it was.” Sneered Dean. “Demons start their killing early, but you take the cake, don’t you Sammy? Left me ‘n Cas to rot in Purgatory! You’re the one who should be in Purgatory! I’ll send you there myself! I’ll stab you in the heart - Hell, I'll carve it out! I'll slit your wrists and let you bleed out! I'll chop your head off! I'll –”

Castiel stole Dean voice.

“Took you long enough, Cassie.” Gabriel growled as he flung the angel blade Sam had somehow managed to get ahold of before the human could use it on himself. “Don’t even think about it, Sammy.” He whispered in his ear. “My brother loves you, and you killing yourself again, right here in front of him because of something inside of your brother whispering through his lips? That would hurt him. No one, not even you, is allowed to hurt Castiel.”

Sam looked back at Gabriel in confusion, who was watching Castiel observe Dean, still pined to the boulder. The hunter started yelling silent obscenities and death threats at all of them.

“Gabriel,” Castiel said slowly, “There’s something in his blood.”

Gabriel waved his little brother over to Sam. “Yes, I see it. Come over with your little human. I’ll get it out.”

Sam, tears running down his face, lip bleeding from where he was chewing on it, said, “What’s wrong with him? Is Dean ok?”

Gabriel turned back to look at Sam. After a moment, he shook his head in bewilderment. “I will never understand you, Samuel Winchester. He has repeatedly driven you to suicide; I just saw the latest installment and cancelled the sequel. And yet you’re worried about him?”

“What’s wrong with him?” Sam asked again, his voice cracking. Beside him, Castiel wrapped an arm around Sam’s stomach, the other around his shoulders and tugged him again his chest; his eyes were still raging, still bright blue as they eyed the other human.

“That penny. It was a cursed copper penny.” Gabriel told him. “The average human body has point one gram of copper in it.”

“It infected some of the copper in his body, in his blood?!” Sam looked stricken. “But.. how?!”

“Some of it, yes.” Gabriel replied, scowling down – aka up – at the elder Winchester, one of his hands glowing blue. “I suspect the magic in the penny, the part which brings hidden or unsaid things to the surface found enough anger and rage and hurt and hate inside of Dean for it to sink its magical little hooks into him and stay there. Spreading slowly, and waiting for the right moment to take control.”

“Please, please tell me you can get it out of him!” Sam pleaded. “Please, Gabriel. I’ll do anything…”

“Oh, I’ll get it out of him. You won’t owe me anything; just remember what we just were discussing. I’ll get it out of him… and he’ll remember every single moment.”

Dean stopped shouting silent death threat and encouraging suicidal hatred at his brother and started hurtling death threats at the Archangel.

“I wish I could say this won’t hurt, Deano, but it will.” Gabriel smirked. “It’ll hurt like – well, it’ll hurt like Hell. Next time you feel something take over your body, you’d damn well better man up and say something. Because next time, I’m just going to kill you.”

That said, the Archangel plunged his hand into Dean’s chest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thoughts?


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, another one! Parts of this one are pulled from chapter 19, but you'll see why.
> 
> Trigger warning: verbal abuse, reference/mention of suicide

“What the _Hell_ are you doing to him?!”

Movement caught Sam and Castiel’s attention at the edge of the clearing. Crowley and Garth were holding a very irate Jody Mills back as she stared from the Archangel with his glowing arm elbow-deep in Dean’s chest. Dean, his voice still on mute was screaming in silence, head back as he struggled. Crowley seemed to know what was going on, or at least to have some idea; Garth’s face was lined with worry, his gaze flickering back over to Sam in silent question.

“ _Sam!_ ” Jody all but screamed.

“The magic of the cursed penny attached itself to the copper in Dean’s body and blood.” Castiel replied evenly. “Gabriel is in the process of removing it.”

“What makes you think that?” Garth asked, brow furrowing further. “Did… did something happen after we left?”

In Castiel’s arm, Sam shuddered, though it was barely noticeable amongst his whole-body shakes. “He started yelling. Like… before. At the hotel.”

Garth’s face smoothed out and his body lost its tense posture. Jody glanced back at him.

“That was what set the boys off so badly before, wasn’t it?”

Garth nodded and grimaced. “You could say it was the straw which broke the camel’s back.”

After glancing between Garth and Sam, Jody finally stopped struggling. “You can let go of me now,” she informed the hunter and King of Hell.

“But what if I were to tell you I liked it when you struggled?” quipped Crowley, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Jody glared darkly at him, a single eyebrow raised; after a few heartbeats, Crowley released her, holding his hands up in obvious surrender.

Ignoring Crowley as he continued to watch her, Jody hurried over to Sam, dropping to her knees next to him and Castiel. “Sam,” she started to say. “I’m so sorry about earlier…”

Sam shook his head. “Don’t be, please, Jody. You have every right to be furious with me. After everything I’ve done to you, to all of you –”

“Stop right there.” Jody held up a finger. “You’re human, just like me, just like Dean, and Garth. Just like all humans, you made mistakes. You made some bad choices. That’s _life_ , Sam.”

Sam shook his head again in silence; Castiel tightened his arms around the – _his_ – human.

“I understand that you care, and that you want Sam to know that.” Castiel told her softly. “But I think this is a conversation Sam needs to have with Dean; his words are what pushed Sam to this point. Deep down, he knows you care. I think that is why it hurts him so much, because he doesn’t understand why or how you can forgive him.”

It took Jody a moment to process the angel’s words – and to realize that he had somehow made his words for her ears alone; Sam was still staring, wide-eyed broken, tears on his cheeks as he watched Gabriel trying to save Dean, unaware of the conversation happening between the angel and cop. Finally she said, “I agree it’s a conversation Sam and Dean need to have, but Sam needs to know that I’m mad with him not because of what he has done in the past. He needs to know that what I _am_ mad about is that I almost lost him because I didn’t know he needed help; that I didn’t see it in time, how bad he was.” She swallowed hard. “That _I_ failed _him,_ and that I am furious with myself, not with him. God damn it, I love the boys, and seeing…” she trailed off, unable to continue, her lips pressed together in an attempt to not cry.

Castiel looked down at the human in his arms. He knew what she meant; seeing Sam hanging from the tree branch, bloody and lifeless was something that was etched into his brain for all of eternity. “It will take time for him to be able to accept hearing those words from anyone, even from Dean. Especially from Dean.” He paused. “I feel the best way we can help Sam is to be there for him, to be patient as he fights his way through the horrors from the Cage, and the mess of everything before and after.”

Jody smiled sadly, eyes still on Sam. “These boys didn’t deserve any of this; they’ve been through more than most people could ever even dream of. I wish I could pray that this would be the end. But it isn’t, is it?” she raised her eyes to meet Castiel’s gaze. “It’ll never be over for them, will it?”

The angel grimaced. “I wish I could say that it is. But I don’t know. I don’t know what my Father or Heaven have planned for them. I think… right now all we can hope for is that Sam and Dean can mend their relationship, and face whatever is to come together, and united.”

OoOoO

Dean didn’t know what the Hell happened.

One moment, he’s holding his brother, relieved, terrified and furious all at once. But Sam… Sammy’s _alive!_ Alive, breathing, heart beating, the terrible wounds healed, his innards back inside of him, the rope was gone.

And the first word out of Sam’s mouth is his name, whispered hoarsely, painfully, but spoken with painful hope.

Clinging tightly to Sam he breaks down completely (not that he _wasn’t_ already completely broken when they found Sam’s dead body, or when he had been holding Sam’s body in his arms, praying with all of his might that Cas and Gabriel were right, and that Sam was coming back).

God, he never wanted to go through that, ever again. Nothing, not Hell, not Purgatory, _nothing_ compared to the howling, aching, searing pain of seeing Sam dead, at his own hands.

Because of Dean.

The guilt was choking him, breaking apart his very being as the angels attempted uselessly to heal the dead body in front of them –  

– until suddenly Gabriel flung his power into Sam, saying the Devil himself was trying to force Sam’s soul back into his body. It felt like hours, days, until Gabriel and Cas returned to themselves, promising that Sam was back in his body, but truly, it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, ten at the most.

For his little brother to wake up, _alive,_ in his arms?

Nothing was better.

And the whole Jody and Crowley thing? Creepy, Hella creepy. And yet… he could almost see it happening. He wanted to joke about it with Sam.

But then, the next second, he was out of operational control of his limbs, body, mouth…

The words he was flinging at Sam!

“Well excuse me for being frantic about finding my suicidal idiot of a brother!” he shouted. “I had to track his sorry ass down yet again and – ”

No! No, no, no! He wasn’t saying that! He didn’t _want_ to say _anything_ like that!

Next thing he knew, Gabriel was ripping Sam from his arms, and Castiel had him pinned to one of the larger boulders in the clearing.

“If you are unable to learn from your past mistakes, Dean Winchester, you will be banished from here.” Castiel snarled threateningly, eyes flashing electric blue. “If you are unable to evolve, as your species is rumored to be able to do, I will never let you near what is _mine_!”

“He aint yours!” Dean’s mouth spat back, the real Dean struggling uselessly against the power holding him to the boulder. “You don’t know how much trouble he is, I promise you! Trust me, you don’t want  _that_  hanging out with you!”

 _No! Stop it!_ Dean screamed in his head. _Cas! It’s not me! Please! It’s not me saying these things! I can’t stop it! Please, Cas! Help!_

A couple of yards away, Dean could see Sam breaking apart in the Archangel’s arms at his words; Dean felt his heart breaking in response as he fought for control of his body.

No one, _no one,_ was allowed to hurt his Sammy!

Not even him – _especially_ not him.

“Sam isn’t yours, either!” Castiel hissed, apparently deaf to Dean’s frantic prayers. “You've shown time and time again that you do not want him, that you do not trust him, that you do not care about him! What do you care if someone else comes along and scoops him up?! Someone who won’t treat him like the enemy, like a traitor? Someone who loves him, and will protect him against everyone and everything in the world?”

 _I do love him! He’s Sammy, my little brother!_ Changing gears, Dean tried to reach Gabriel. _Gabriel! Please! I’m not in control, it’s not me saying these things! Knock me out or something before I say too much! I’ve already said too much, I’m hurting Sammy! Please!_

Instead, what came out of him next was a snort, followed by, “Just save yourself the trouble, Cas, and walk away. He’ll only stab you in the back first and every chance he gets!” he turned his gaze to Sam. “It’s the one thing you’re good at, huh Sammy? Turning on the people who care on you and then killing them? Mom, Dad, Me, Jessica, Cas, Bobby. Hell, you turned on Gabriel; you turned on the whole freaking world, and even the demon bitch!”

Gabriel was eyeing him suspiciously; good. Dean didn’t think he was able to hear him either, but the Archangel was starting to realize something was wrong. But because his focus was on Dean, despite his murmuring something to the younger Winchester, he didn’t realize what Dean saw.

Sam was working the Archangel’s Angel blade from its sheath.

Sam was going to try and kill himself again.

_No! Sammy, please! Please don’t! Damn it Sammy it’s not me!_

But it was, in a way. Everything, everything for past months – hell, the past _years_ pointed to the contrary.

Whatever was controlling him decided to twist the pain a little more.  “Demon blooded, demon, blood-sucking vampire freak is what you are! No way in Hell you’re my brother! In all honesty, you never were! Not since you burned mom on the ceiling!”

“That wasn’t me!” Sam cried, bewildered eyes on his brother. “That was Yellow Eyes!”

 _I know it wasn’t, Sammy!_ Dean screamed. He could see the look in Sam’s eyes – pain, bewilderment… hopelessness. _I know it wasn’t! Please! I’m so sorry…_

“Yeah. Sure it was.” The thing manipulating Dean’s mouth spat. “Demons start their killing early, but you take the cake, don’t you Sammy? Left me ‘n Cas to rot in Purgatory! You’re the one who should be in Purgatory! I’ll send you there myself! I’ll stab you in the heart – Hell, I’ll carve it out! I'll slit your wrists and let you bleed out! I'll chop your head off! I'll –”

Castiel stole Dean voice.

_Finally!_

“Took you long enough, Cassie.” Gabriel growled, snatching the Angel blade from Sam’s hands and flung it away before he could use it as he whispered something into Sam’s ear.

_Thank God…_

Dean could tell him mouth was still moving, but wasn’t sure what it was trying to say – nothing good, based on the looks everyone was giving him.

“Gabriel,” Castiel said suddenly, head tilting to the side as he observed Dean. “There’s something in his blood.”

 _No shit, Sherlock!_ Dean shouted at them. _About damn time you realized something was wrong, that this isn’t me talking!_

Gabriel motioned for Castiel to come over. “Yes, I see it. Come over with your little human. I’ll get it out.”

Castiel moved away from him, though he remained pined to the boulder, his mouth hurling silent obscenities, and worse.

Sam was still crying, and blood was running down his chin from where he had been chewing on his lip; the sight broke Dean all over again. “What’s wrong with him? Is Dean ok?”

After everything, after the physical and verbal abuse, after pushing him to freaking _suicide_ , Sam was still worried about him, Dean, his older brother.

_Oh, Sam… what did I ever do to deserve you as my brother?_

Gabriel turned back to look at Sam. “I will never understand you, Samuel Winchester.” The Archangel’s tone betrayed his surprise. “He has repeatedly driven you to suicide; I just saw the latest installment and cancelled the sequel. And yet you’re worried about him?”

“What’s wrong with him?” Sam asked again, his voice cracking. Beside him, Castiel wrapped an arm around Sam’s stomach, the other around his shoulders and tugged him again his chest; his eyes were still raging, still bright blue as they eyed the other human, suspicion and rage evident.

Despite the disgustingly horrible situation they were in, a small part of Dean smiled at seeing Sam in Castiel’s arms. Despite some of the seraphim’s less than stellar – aka terrible, horrifying, evil – choices, Dean couldn’t think of someone better for his little brother.

“That penny. It was a cursed _copper_ penny.” Gabriel was saying. “The average human body has point one gram of copper in it.”

“It infected some of the copper in his body, in his blood?!” Sam looked stricken. “But.. how?!”

“Some of it, yes.” Gabriel replied, scowling at Dean, as if he could see the real Dean shoved down deep inside. One of his hands was glowing blue. “I suspect the magic in the penny, the part which brings hidden or unsaid things to the surface found enough anger and rage and hurt and hate inside of Dean for it to sink its magical little hooks into him and stay there. Spreading slowly, and waiting for the right moment to take control.”

“Please, _please_ tell me you can get it out of him!” Sam pleaded. “Please, Gabriel. I’ll do _anything_ …”

“Oh, I’ll get it out of him. You won’t owe me anything; just remember what we just were discussing. I’ll get it out of him… and he’ll remember every single moment.” He paused, smirking. “I wish I could say this won’t hurt, Deano, but it will. It’ll hurt like – well, it’ll hurt like Hell. Next time you feel something take over your body, you’d damn well better man up and say something. Because next time, I’m just going to kill you.”

Dean wanted to argue that he hadn’t really been able to tell something was wrong, that he hadn’t noticed something was off with himself. But in hindsight, he could see the clues. The on/off switch on his rage being flicked with no warning, the lashing out at everyone trying to help him…

Then the pain swamped him, and all he could do was scream.

OoOoO

It took over three minutes for Gabriel to gather every last little bit of the infected copper inside of Dean’s body without causing permanent damage to his body. When Gabriel was finally about to remove his hand from Dean’s chest, he held up the glowing mass of Grace, speckled with small flecks of copper-black. With a snap of his other hand, he sent it far, far away.

Dean slumped to the ground, finally released by Castiel, his body twitching in pain.

“D-Dean?” Sam said hoarsely, crawling on his hands and knees to his brother. “Dean?”

Castiel let him go, staying where he was next to Jody.

Dean’s hand twitched on the ground. He wanted to move, to sit up, to find _Sam_ , but the pain was too much. He could feel Sam's very hesitant hand on his shoulder. He wanted to get up, to hold his little brother and never, ever let him go, but he still couldn't move.

But he _could_ finally speak with his own mouth again.

“Sammy?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning:reference to suicide, self-harm, torture

_Dean’s hand twitched on the ground. He wanted to move, to sit up, to find_ _Sam_ _, but the pain was too much. He could feel Sam's very hesitant hand on his shoulder. He wanted to get up, to hold his little brother and never, ever let him go, but he still couldn't move._

_But he_ _could_ _finally speak with his own mouth again._

_“Sammy?”_

Sam’s grip on Dean’s shoulder tightened, bunching the green jacket between his fingers.

“Don’t move, Dean. Not yet. Your whole body is shaking. Take your time. Just breathe. Deep, slow breathes.” 

Dean knew his brother was right, but he didn’t care how much pain he was in. He needed to sit up and look Sam – _find Sam find Sammy protect Sammy don’t let anything hurt Sammy_ – in the eye and apologize. He needed to have a long-ass ‘chick-flick’ moment with his brother, as many as it took until his brother understood that he knew just how badly he had fucked things up, as many as it took to make sure this horrible nightmare never, ever repeated itself.

Slowly, gritting his teeth against the pain gnawing at his bones, nerves, muscles, _everything_ … he pushed himself until he was sitting upright against the boulder their angel friends had pinned him against. Some time while he had been getting himself into a more vertical position Sam had released his jacket and backed up. His shoulders were hunched, eyes downcast.

Dean reached out a hand, palm up, to his brother. “S-Sammy, please…” he swallowed. “C’mere. I need… I need to see you. I need to see you alive. Please.”

Sam, eyes still fixed on the damp ground as he crawled over – Dean finally realized one of the three supernatural creatures in the clearing with them had put up some sort of clear barrier to keep the rain off of all of them – until he was within a couple inches if Dean.

Wincing, Dean pushed off of the boulder, placing his hands gently on either side of Sam’s face, trying to ignore the way his brother flinched away from his touch. He lifted Sam’s face until he was hesitantly meeting Dean’s gaze. Dean felt his breath catch in his throat and the mad mixture of pain, fear, love, and hope in Sam’s eyes.

“God, Sammy…” Dean swallowed again. “I’m so sorry for everything. I – I assumed, a thought wrong, I was always so _damn_ angry, and took your silence as confirmation when it wasn’t true.” His voice was shaking. “I was such an idiot, and I let my rage get the better of me.”

He leaned forward until their foreheads touched. He could smell the blood and soil still clinging to his brother’s clothes and skin. “I don’t know if you can ever forgive me, Sammy, but I hope that someday you will.”

“You were kinda a _jerk_ for the past couple of years.” Sam’s rough attempt and humor made Dean snort wetly.

“Bitch.”

Dean knew it would take a lot more than a few ‘sorrys’ to repair the burnt remains of the bridge between the two of them, but so far Sam seemed open to the thought of putting it back together.

Deciding to add his own humor, Dean informed Sam, “Just as an FYI, little brother, you need to pick an angel and stick to them.”

Sam leaned back, though he allowed Dean to take his hands and hang on tightly to them, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Woof!” The crazy-haired dog was back, standing next to the brothers, tail wagging happily.

Then it was suddenly a crouching Gabriel.

Sam jumped. “Seriously?!” he looked at his brother before looking back at the Archangel. “That was you? Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Gabriel didn’t seem to care Sam was mad at him. “Yup. I was in Madison, clearing it from Demons” – Sam’s mind went back to being in the Semi with Jodi, Sierra, and Alex – “And I felt a tug, a whisp of a prayer. I knew it was you, so flew here. I was sorely tempted to just take you back to your camper.” He shrugged. “But I knew that would make you flip your lid, so I transformed into a harmless dog and kept you company.”

Sam shook his head. “I was cuddling with a bloody Archangel…”

“Don’t worry, brother, he’s all yours.” That comment Gabriel directed at Castiel.

Castiel crossed his arms. “I would hope so. I would hate to have to fight you.”

_“I know you probably already know, but he has very vivid, very violent nightmares.”_ Gabriel added mentally to Castiel. _“I had to wake him up from some, and had to stop him from harming himself in the aftermath, as well as the hallucinations of our dear Fallen brother. Be prepared for all of that, and probably more.”_

_“I will do what I must to keep him safe and secure.”_ Castiel retorted. _I… I love him, Gabriel. I don’t think there isn’t something I wouldn’t do for him.”_

Gabriel smirked. “ _I would assume nothing less.”_

Both angels paused their conversation, realizing everyone in the clearing was staring at them. Castiel was happy to realize Sam had allowed his brother to wrap an arm around his shoulders and tuck him against his side.

“Well, as much fun as this has been, I have some rogue demons to go deal with.” Crowley informed them. He turned to Jody. “It’s been a pleasure, my lady. I hope we will meet again.” He seized her hand, bowed over it and planted a kiss on it before turning to look at the Winchester brothers. “Do try and stay out of trouble for once, you two. Tah.”

And he was gone.

Jody shook her head, shaking her hand as if trying to get something off of it – no one was brave enough to point out she was blushing, not even Gabriel. “I’ve been flirted with by some unsavory characters before, but I never would have ever guessed I would add a demon, the King of Hell, to that list.”

“I think he likes you.” Gabriel informed her with a smirk.

“Demons can’t love. Even I know that.” She retorted with a glare.

Gabriel chuckled. “I honestly wouldn’t put it past him to be able to.”

Castiel left Archangel and Cop to their discussion slash bickering contest, choosing to kneel down in front of the brothers. “How are you both feeling?”

Dean remained silent, turning to look at his brother. Sam shrugged, eyes on the ground again. “Hurts, but it’s nothing I haven’t had to deal with.”

Castiel winced at the images which flashed through his love’s mind, images of being flayed and dissected by Lucifer while Michael looked on in distaste in the background, arms around Adam, keeping him from looking.

Castiel swallowed hard.

“Cas? You ok?” Dean reached out to touch him but stopped short.

Castiel met Sam’s gaze. The man shrugged. Taking that as permission, he said, “I happened to catch a look at what Sam was thinking about when he said he’d dealt with worse.”

Dean looked from the seraphim to his brother. “The Cage?”

Sam nodded with a shiver; Dean pulled him tighter against his side, and wrapped the other arm around Sam’s middle. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.” He murmured into Sam’s long hair.

“Th-the only good thing was Michael protected Adam.” Sam said softly, slowly. “He might have manipulated him into saying yes, and was going to use him to enact the Apocalypse, but in his own way he cared. He never let Lucifer harm him.” He closed his eyes. “I hope he still is protecting him, now that I’m not down there to entertain Lucifer.”

“Death delivered Adam to Heaven when he brought your soul back to your body.” Castiel informed both of them, puzzled. “Were you not informed of this?”

Silence.

Castiel sighed and muttered something which sounded a lot like “stupid angels cannot even deliver one simple message…”

Dean turned his attention back to his brother. “Sammy…”

Sam looked over.

Dean continued, “I messed up, big time. But… I want to fix things, I want to be brothers again. Do you…” he pressed his lips together. “Do you think we could try and be that again? I know I don’t deserve you saying yes, but please, please say yes, Sammy. I’ve… I’ve missed you, man.”

Sam met Dean’s eyes, studying the depths of the emotion within them. After several long moments, Sam stuck out his hand. “Let’s fix this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished-ish. I might continue later as a part two, going into the brothers repairing their relationship, Castiel and Sam's budding relationship (and maybe Jody and Crowley? What do you all think of that pairing?)
> 
> Yes, they have a lot to work on, well beyond what is in this chapter. See above :P
> 
> I will be adding a chapter on Castiel, Amelia, and Janet teaming up to find and deliver Karma for the injured, abandoned animals under Amelia's care as he promised.


End file.
